


A Match Made in Hell

by Aalligade



Category: Titanfall
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Codependency, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, I think that anything more than handholding consists as smut, Im trying something new please be nice to me or I WILL cry on you, Limb loss, M/M, Mutual Pining, Out of Character, Reluctant Bonding, Slow Burn, This story is not nearly as serious as the poem would imply, Unfortunately they aren’t married so this is a sin in the eyes of god :/, Very vague smut, ableism tw, anger issues, homophobia tw, soul searching in the middle of a forest, starts off unhealthy but they learn how to make it work :)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:14:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 25,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21676303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aalligade/pseuds/Aalligade
Summary: In that last afternoon your boyish heart broke.The hot wind came down like a sledge-hammer stroke.The blood-sucking flies to a rare feast awoke.And they searched out your wounds, your death-warrant tracing.And the merciful men, their religion enhancing,Stopped the red reaper, to give you a chance.Then you died on the prairie, and scorned all disgraces,O bronco that would not be broken of dancing.— Vachel Lindsay, The Broncho that Would Not Be Broken
Relationships: Jack Cooper/Viper (Titanfall)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’m back on my bullshit 😞  
> This story is going to share some elements with In Good Company, but these are very different characters. This is the edgy, pg-13 fanfic that Viper DESERVES.

I knew the operation was risky. An air assault in a moving target isn’t exactly simple, but I had expected failure would mean death.   
Apparently not. Because I was pulled out of the wreckage and tossed into a jail cell in some IMC shuttle.

The cell is as clean and hypnotically bland as every other IMC building. Nothing to keep me from sitting in silence and thinking about my actions.   
They’re pretending that they’re still going to use the Fold Weapon, but it’s all just an act. The Ark didn’t survive the crash if the Draconis. It couldn’t have.

The events of the past... week? It couldn’t have been more than a week. But it all feels so surreal, now. Now that I’m not being shot at, I have time to actually digest what happened. I have to convince myself that the whole thing wasn’t actually a weird dream.   
Yes, I’m (kind of) a Pilot now, and I (kind of) have a titan. And yes, I took on four Apex Predators and won.   
I might have to pinch myself to make sure I’m awake.

The IMC soldiers had made it out that I would be in solitary confinement. That wasn’t a huge surprise, as the IMC doesn’t like to take prisoners. Too much work when a bullet to the head gets the job done.  
That’s why the sound of struggling at the other side of the door catches me off-guard.  
I didn’t think there were any other survivors. Did anyone else make it off of the Draconis?

The door slides open with a hiss, and a few Grunts shuffle in. It almost looks like they’re dragging a corpse.  
This (hopefully) unconscious is wearing burnt and bloody flight gear— a Pilot?   
The only people that come to mind are Commander Briggs and The 6-4, but this gear clearly isn’t theirs. It’s way to... orange?

I scoot closer in order to get a better look.   
Most of the Pilot’s body is obscured by the Grunts shoving them into cell opposite of mine.   
Okay, it’s definitely orange, but... who _is_ it?  
Militia pilots don’t usually wear colors other than gray, white, and blue. (Lastimosa had been an exception, but that’s only because he refuses to accept “no” as an answer.)

The strange Pilot is dumped on the floor unceremoniously, and the cell door is closed and locked.  
The Grunts leave with distinctly stony expressions on their faces. They hadn’t said anything— that strikes me as strange. They had gloated about their superiority and insulted my intelligence the entire way to the shuttle.

It takes two and a half hours (yes, I’ve been keeping track of the time with the watch they hadn’t thought to take from me) before the Pilot proves they aren’t dead.  
They’re laying on their front, facing away from me, and letting out long, agonized groans.   
That’s literally all they’re doing.   
Laying face-down and moaning.

“Psst. Hey,” I cut them off in the middle of a particularly long whine. “Who are you? Where’d they pick you up from?”  
They don’t say anything, but they’ve stopped the noises so I know they heard me.

“You’re not a Militia Pilot, are you IMC?”   
The chuckle, deep and slow. I can hear something scraping against the floor— they’re shaking their head “no.” So they’re not Militia, and they’re not IMC. That leaves...

No... no, it couldn’t be. But then again...  
Despite knowing it’s a bad idea, I speak up again.  
“Viper?” The low, affirmative hum confirms my fears. 

There are a million questions I want to ask him, but I get the idea he’s not in the mood to talk. 

So now I’m stuck in an IMC shuttle, sitting across from the man I thought I had killed.  
This situation has no business being as awkward as it is.

15 minutes later, Viper starts to move. I guess he got tired of moping.   
As he slowly peels himself onto the floor, I can see the extent of his injuries. The flight suit is burnt and ripped— he definitely looks like he was recently pulled out of burning rubble.  
And— oh. _oh._ He’s definitely missing an arm. 

“Holy shit...” I can’t help but mutter.   
Viper pushes himself into a corner, making a noise that could either be laughter or sobbing.

“Fuck.” He responds, in a very matter-of-fact sort of way.  
He’s still got his helmet on, and I can’t help but worry if he has a concussion or something. It’s easy to see him as an actual human, now. While he’s not actively trying to kill me.

Now we’re just sitting and staring at each other. At least, I think he’s looking at me. The helmet makes it difficult to tell. I’m wearing my helmet, too. Maybe he’s looking at this as being a mutual ignoring of each other.

Actually, now I’m pretty sure he’s just sleeping. It’s the snoring that gives it away. I’m the Pilot he nearly lost his life to, and he decided that sleep is far more interesting than I am. I can’t even bring myself to be annoyed.  
Actually, I’ll admit that he’s got a pretty good idea. A nap sounds great right now.

—————————————————

The sound of arguing is what eventually wakes me up. It’s not exactly loud, but in the artificial silence of the cells, it’s deafening.

“Come on, you bastard, open up.” I hear one of the Grunts say. There’s a group of them surrounding Viper’s cell, with a couple of them inside.  
I move closer as subtly as I can in order to see better.  
Now I can see that two are holding him down, and one has pushed his helmet up to reveal his mouth.   
It seems like the Grunt is trying to force-feed him pills.  
Although, that might not be an accurate description. It’s not like he’s really struggling.

While the one shoved pills in his face, the other two are removing the bandages from his arm.  
Seeing the burnt skin nearly makes me vomit.

They’re only in the cell for a few minutes before they leave, saying something about bringing food later.

Viper hasn’t moved from the spot that they left him, and hasn’t even bothered to push his helmet back down.

“What was that?” I ask, not really expecting an answer.

“Meds,” He groans. Oh, I guess he’s in the mood to talk now. Not sure if that’s good or bad. “For my arm. Or what’s left of it.” The stump of his arm moves, accompanied by a groan of pain.  
I can’t help but wince.

“What happened?” I speak up. “To your arm, I mean. You didn’t lose it in our fight.”

A heavy sigh. “In the wreckage. Somethin’ fell. Had to cut me out.”  
I cringe at the mental image, and I almost feel bad for him. I’d feel a lot worse if he hadn’t tried to kill me a couple of hours ago.

————————————————

The “meal” that eventually comes is cold and tasteless. The soldier that brought it watches us eat in silence.   
I make sure to face away from both of them while I eat, so that neither of them can see any part of my face.  
When I’m finished, Viper still hasn’t touched his food.  
He’s sitting up, which is definitely an improvement from laying on the ground, but is just poking at his meal.

“They’re going to make you eat it,” His head jerks up as I speak over the comm system. “Might as well make it easier on yourself.”

“Mm.” He cocks his head as he stares down at the vague pile of mush. He takes a moment before pushing his helmet up and taking a bite. The face he makes shouldn’t be as entertaining as it is.


	2. Chapter 2

We’ve been on the shuttle for a day. One long, painful day. And every hour seems worse than the last.  
It seems that Viper’s gotten out of his strangely docile mood, and is now out for blood.  
He searches out opportunities to make my life a living hell, and has even taken to shouting over the comm system to wake me up from naps.

He’s gone on long rants about how I’ve ruined his life, and I’m starting to wish I made sure he was dead.

“Are you ignoring me?” That must be a record— it only took him five minutes to figure it out. “I’m trying to talk to you.”

“No, you’re really not,” I sigh. “You’re just talking _at_ me.”

“Well, what do you call this, huh? You and I are clearly conversing.” 

I glare at him. “This is just me telling you to stop.”

“Did you stop when you shot me out of the sky? No, I didn’t think so. You tried to kill me so now you have to put up with me. Sucks to be you.”

“You should really just save your breath.”

“No! I won’t!” He’s getting mad, now. I can hear it in his voice. “Because of you, I’m stuck in some stupid IMC shuttle waiting for them to blow my goddamn brains out!” Each word is spat out with enough venom to kill.

“Why _are_ you here?” I ask in an attempt to change the subject. “Figured you’d be with Blisk, since you’re one of his lackeys.” 

“You would think,” He laughs— quick and cruel. “But I’m not on top of the food chain anymore,” His voice hikes up, and his good hand is twitching and trembling at his side. “I’m not an apex predator. You’ve knocked me down, Bandit. You happy?”

His movement becomes more aggressive and erratic the longer I stay silent. He’s waiting, coiled to strike if I say the wrong thing.  
He looks like a wild animal— fitting for a man named Viper.

“If Blisk can afford to get rid of you, maybe you didn’t mean that much to him.”  
He pauses in his pacing, staring stupidly at me.

“You— you don’t know that.”

I shrug. “No, but I can guess.”  
And he simply stands there, opening and closing his fist as he attempts to find the right thing to say.  
With on long, discouraged sigh, Viper sits down in the corner.

He doesn’t talk again that day, but I can tell he wants to. Can’t say I don’t appreciate the silence.

——————————————————

Viper asks me if I meant what I said multiple times the next day. I nearly beg one of the soldiers to slip sedatives into his food just to shut him up.

He always seems to stop talking altogether when one of the Grunts comes in. He sits near the gate and slumps like he’s asleep. I can only imagine why. He always seems like he knows something I don’t. He always seems like he has a plan.

One of the Grunts has only just left when he speaks up. “Bandit,” He calls, because it’s the only name he knows me by. “C’mere, I gotta show you something.”

I debate if I should just ignore him, but I know he’s not the type to just let something go.  
“What is it?” I ask, glancing over.  
He holds something up, and I have to squint to make it out. “Are those—“

“Keys,” He finishes my thought, nearly singing the one word. “For the cells.”

I stand up quickly, moving over to the bars. “How did you— never mind. Can you open the lock?”

“Oh I can,” He answers, and the smug tone worries me. “I can open mine, but I don’t have to open yours.”

“You—“

“Nuh-uh. Listen to me. I can get out of this cage on my own, but I can’t fight all those idiots off with one arm. What’s going to happen is that I’ll let you out, and you’ll help me. Quid Pro Quo, yeah?”

It’s not like I have many other options. I hate to go along with his plane, but it’s my best chance at getting out of this alive.  
“Fine,” I grit out. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

And with that, he opens his own cell and walks over to mine. We stare at each other through the bars, and it annoys me that he’s a few inches taller.

“We do this quick and clean, got it?”  
I no, and he unlocks the door. He moves out of the way as the door slides open, like he expects me to jump out and attack him.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

———————————————————

It’s almost surprising how easy it is to take out the Grunts. Although, I’m guessing they weren’t counting on us getting out.  
But now we’re faced with a new problem.

“Do you know how to fly a shuttle?” I have to shout over the rush of incoming air (because one of the grunts has shot a hole in one of the windows. At least we’re over a planet with oxygen.)

Viper, who had been yelling obscenities at the corpses, pauses. “Uh... no?” He glances between the cockpit and I. “Do you?”

“Well, if I did I wouldn’t be asking you!”

“Ah, shit,” He says, as if this is just a minor setback. “Okay. We’ll have to jump.”

“Jump?!”

“Your jump kit still works, doesn’t it?”  
He moves around the cabin, pulling supplies out of various lockboxes and crates and shoving them into a knapsack he found. “Go pick up some more stuff, we’ll need it.”

He doesn’t need to tell me twice.  
I dig throughout the shuttle, and a bright blue light coming from one of the crates draws my attention. BT’s datacore.

I pull it out and stuff it into one of my pockets. I’m relieved beyond words that the Grunts had the idea to pull out his datacore before his chassis exploded.

I grab anything else that looks important and shove them into my other pockets. I know that I grab some stuff that Viper already has, but there’s no guarantee he’ll share. Hell, It’s a reach to think we’ll continue helping each other once we’re off the shuttle.

“You done?” Viper shouts. I call back, telling him that I have, and then walk back to the cockpit.  
“Good, cause, uh... this thing’s going down fast.”  
I glance out the window and see that ‘going down’ is an understatement.  
The thick forest of whatever planet we’re above is approaching quickly. It seems that he’s pushed the shuttle into a nosedive.

He presses a button, and the cockpit door slides open.  
“Come on!” He slings his knapsack over his good shoulder and reaches back towards me.  
I begrudgingly grab onto his arm, and suddenly I’m falling.  
I think he says something over the comms, but the adrenaline of free fall blocks out his voice.

I can feel us both jerk as our jump kits kick in, but the rapidly-approaching forest presents a new problem: How are we going to land?

Hard. We land hard. And I’m pretty sure I feel my ankle twist as I hit the ground. Viper’s not any better, as he stumbles face-first into a tree.

I push myself up, groaning in pain.  
“Now what?” I ask, staring up at the thick canopy of leaves.

“Now,” He grunts, rubbing a hand in the top of his helmet. “Uh... hm. I was really banking on you being able to pilot the plane.”

I roll my eyes. “You could’ve asked me before we killed the actual Pilot.”

“Hm. I guess.”  
There’s a pause as we stare at each other. Neither of us planned this far ahead, and there’s no way to contact any faction in the middle of a dense forest.  
This really wasn’t the best plan.

“Should we just... start walking?”

He considers that for a minute, placing a hand where I assume his chin is. “Hm. Yeah, it’d be better than just standing here. No telling what’s in here with us.”  
I sigh and nod. It’s good that he’s not making this whole situation unnecessarily difficult. He must have some sense of self-preservation, after all.

“Guess we should just... pick a direction and start moving.”

“West,” Viper decides quickly. “We’ll move with the sun.”

I hum as I think it over. “That might only apply to Earth, but it’s as good a start as any. Let’s go.”

——————————————————

Viper’s good will towards me runs out quickly. Now that we’re not in a life or death situation, he’s gone back to his hobby of berating me.  
At least it fills the silence, I guess.

“Y’know, if you had just let me kill you, neither of us would be in this situation. Just saying.”

“Whatever,” I sigh. It’s better just to let him tire himself out than try to argue. He seems plenty happy to carry on a conversation on his own.

“I was living the good life, you know? Well, you probably don’t. Since you’ve been living in a Militia dirt hut for most of your life,” He grunts as we climb over a fallen tree. I can tell he’s having trouble, but he’s not asking for help so I don’t offer any.  
“But anyways, mercenary work pays really well. I’d say you should try it out, but...”

“But I actually have morals,” He laughs at my answer, but it devolves into a coughing fit. The fall certainly hasn’t done him any favors.  
“Do you need to stop?” I glance back. “You’re slowing down.”

“No,” Viper argues, but I have the feeling he’s only going against me out of habit. “M’fine. But it’s getting dark—“ It really isn’t. “Should probably set up camp or something.”

I can recognize this as the quasi-olive branch it is. He doesn’t feel like arguing any more, and I am plenty happy to just let him shut up.

We find a decent-enough clearing after a few more minutes of aimless wandering, and he’s quick to start calling dibs.

“This is my spot,” He states, pointing at the ground where he’s standing. “You can’t come over here.”

“Alright,” I shrug. I walk towards him and draw a line in the dirt between us. “That’s your half, and this is mine.”

“Fine. Have fun on your side.” He drops his knapsack into the ground and pulls out what looks like a tarp. As he lays it over a low-hanging branch, I realize that it’s supposed to be a tent.

I sit down on my side, pulling BT’s datacore out of my pocket. I stare down at him, sighing.  
“What am I doing, BT?” I mutter. I don’t know if he can hear me or not, but I hope that he can. Knowing that I can talk to him makes me feel a little better.

The sounds of grunting and struggling draw my attention.Viper has some sort of MRE pinched between his knees, and is trying desperately to tear it open with his hand.  
I nearly laugh at how ridiculous he looks.

“You need some help?” I call.

“No!” He snaps. “I can open it myself! I’m not some sort of fucking invalid!”  
Ouch. I must have touched a sore spot.  
He continues to struggle with the package for a couple of minutes, before he chucks it with an angry shout.

The MRE lands in front of me, and I pick it up. It’s funny how this mangled package is what has defeated Viper.  
I glance over at him, and see that he’s curled up in the fetal position with his arm wrapped around his knees.

I tear the package open easily, and set to cooking the meager meal. I can feel his eyes on the back of my neck, and I have to surprise a shiver.  
By the time the food is done, Viper has silently taken the spot next to me.

We pass the package back and forth, each of us taking a few bites until there’s nothing left. He stares down at the empty bag.

“Thanks.” He mutters.

“No problem.” I answer.


	3. Chapter 3

We pack up and leave at dawn the next day.  
Sleeping on the ground hasn’t done my back any favors, but I’m not going to complain. Not when Viper is whining enough to make up for it.

“Shit, what are the chances we’ll find a mattress in the middle of the forest?”

“Slim to none.”

“God, my back hurts. I’m getting too old to sleep on the ground.”

“Really? How old are you?” I ask absentmindedly.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m 41,”  
Huh. I guess that makes sense. He’d have to be old enough to really make a name for himself in order to be a part of the Apex Predators. A long and successful run as a mercenary would certainly pull in a lot of money.  
“What about you?”

“35,” I answer.  
Only 6 years between us, not as large a gap as I had originally thought. “What planet are you from?”

“Is that an insult or an actual question?”

“Just curious,” I answer amicably.

“Whatever. It’s one of those little mining planets. You’ve probably never heard of it, it’s not really included on a lot of maps.”

“An outer planet?” A nod in response. “Hm. I’m from Earth. My family left when I was really young, though. I don’t really remember it.”

“Ooh,” I can hear the smile on his voice. “Intersolar, huh? What made you leave?”

“Same reason as everybody else,” I shrug. “My parents thought the Frontier would have better opportunities.”  
I can help but wonder how differently everything would have turned out if I had been raised on Earth. The stories about the planet vary wildly depending on who I ask. One person will claim it’s the closest thing to heaven, while another will call it literal hell.  
It’s difficult to tell who’s telling the truth.

“When did you join the Militia?” Viper speaks up. I’m surprised at how genuinely curious he sounds— I guess he enjoys not having to talk to himself. One can only carry out a one-sided conversation for so long.

“Right when I turned 18,” I probably shouldn’t be handing over information so readily, but it’s not like he’s in the position to use anything against me.  
“It was the day after my birthday, actually. I was tired of the IMC taking whatever they wanted, so I decided to make a difference.”

He chuckles. “How noble. Y’know, I actually joined the IMC when I was 18, too,” I glance back at him. Why is he telling me this? “Thought it was my only option to get off that stupid rock. I wasn’t exactly the smartest person back then.”

“What stopped you from joining the Militia?”

“Money,” Viper states simply. “Sure, the IMC doesn’t pay well, but I might as well not have a job working for the Militia. I’m not about to work for a goddamn charity.”  
I really don’t know why I expected anything else. 

“Why not take a higher paying job somewhere else?”

“Oh, like what?” He scoffs. “Could you imagine me as an accountant? I’d blow my fucking brains out. But that’s not the point. The thing is, jobs are difficult to come by on outer planets. I either became a miner, or I joined the IMC.”

“Do they not run shuttles out there?” I grunt, pushing through a tangled growth of vines. 

He makes a noncommittal noise. “They do, but...” A pause. “What was I going to do? Take a shuttle to some random intersolar planet and hope for the best? I was stupid, but not _that_ stupid.”

———————————————————

The campfire between us is the only source of light. The sun had set a while ago, but neither of us want to go to sleep.

Viper has drawn a new line between us.  
I guess our previous information indulgences don’t make much of a difference in his book.

I can hear the native creatures moving through the dense forest, and I can’t help but wish that I had grabbed a gun from the shuttle.  
I feel overly paranoid, but one can never be too careful in a situation like this. I don’t even know what _planet_ we’re on.

Lost in the woods with an ex-Apex Predator. God, what a joke. How am I going to explain this to Commander Briggs when I get back? _if_ I get back?

Because after all, there’s no guarantee I’m going to survive this. Viper might be my biggest problem right now, but there are about a million things on this planet that could kill me.

I sigh and toss another stick into the dying flames.  
Viper stares at me silently.  
It’s strange how hot-or-cold he is. He either won’t shut up or is deathly silent. Right now, it seems like he’s in a quiet sort of mood.

“Bandit,” I stand corrected. He reaches into his knapsack and pulls out another MRR.  
“Cook it?” He asks, holding it up. “Please?”

“Oh, yeah,” I stand up and walk over to him, then picking it up out of his hand. “How many of these things did you grab?” 

A shrug in response.  
“Enough to last a while.”

He doesn’t talk any more as I prepare the MRE. Maybe he’s got something on his mind.  
It’s not like I have any idea of what’s going through his head. This man is a walking, talking enigma.

When the ‘food’ is done, I move to push my helmet up in order to eat, but pause.  
I’m honestly getting really tired of having to wear the helmet 24/7, and it’s starting to smell.

Not fully considering the consequences of my actions, I push my helmet up off and allow it to fall on the ground next to me.  
I take a few bites of the MRE, before holding it out towards Viper.  
All he does is stare at me.

“Are you stupid?” He blurts out. “You know who I am, right? Why are you showing me your face?”

I push the MRE towards him again, and he finally grabs it. “I’m not showing you my face, I just felt like taking my helmet off,” I shrug. “What are you going to do, go to the IMC and tattle?”

“I— I might!” Be scoots away, pushing his helmet up slightly in order to shove a few spoonfuls of food into his mouth. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Except for all the stuff you told me,” I snort, taking the MRE back from him.

“For all you know, I might’ve been lying!”  
Viper’s mouth twists into a snarl as I chuckle. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“Why would you lie about growing up on a tiny mining planet? Knowing you, you’d make up some grandiose backstory about being distantly related to royalty. Your ego is too big for you to knowingly play yourself down.”

“I...” His lips twitch downward. “Ugh. I fucking hate you.”  
He stands and walks to his makeshift tent, muttering the whole time.

Maybe I should stop trying to provoke him. After all, everything’s uphill from here.

——————————————————

“Jack,” A soft voice calls out to me. “Jack... Jack! Come on, we’re going!”  
Annie stands by the door of the family home, camera in hand. “The ship’s going soon! Don’t want to miss it.”

Oh, right. I’m finally being sent off to a Militia base.  
I knew this day would come, but I hadn’t expected it to be here so soon.

“Geez, I’m coming!” I laugh, grabbing the duffel bag full of my belongings. “Are you that eager to get rid of me?”

“Push, obviously,” She rolls her eyes. “I’m getting your room!” As I pass by here, she punches me in the arm playfully. “But seriously—“ Her smile changes into an expression of mock severity. “I’m going to miss you. That’s why you’re going to write me letters and send me stuff from all over the Frontier.”

“I promise,” I draw an X over my heart. “I will keep writing you letters and buying you stuff. I’m not going to die the moment I leave the atmosphere, though.”

An overly dramatic groan. “I don’t know that! Oh my god...” She pulls me into a tight hug. “My baby brother is going off to war! What am I going to do?!”

“Let me go do that I don’t miss my ride?”

“You—“ She huffs, but ultimately releases me. “I can’t stand you. Maybe distance will make the heart grow fonder,” She grabs onto my shoulder and lifts the camera up. “But I want a picture before you leave so that I don’t forget your stupid face while you’re gone.”

She pulls me closer, so that we’re standing shoulder-to-shoulder, and grins up at the camera.  
“Say ‘Viper!’“

“Huh?”

—————————————————————

I holt awake as something smacks against my head.  
“Shit... is that..?” I push myself up, staring at the rock on the ground.  
“Are you throwing rocks at me?” I turn and glare at Viper, and I can see the red glow of his visor peering back at me.

“You talk in your sleep,” He says, as if that justifies hurling rocks at my head. “It was keeping me up.”  
I have to fight the urge to walk over and strangle him.

“There are better ways to wake me up,” I grit my teeth. “I don’t need a concussion on top of everything else.”

He huffs and lays down so that his back is facing me. “Whatever, Bandit. I’m not your goddamn friend.”

I roll my eyes and rest my head against the ground.  
“Never said you were.” I sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love these two idiots


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate these two morons they’re my favorite characters

“Bandit. Wake up.” Viper kicks my leg for the millionth time. I don’t like it, but it’s certainly a better alternative to nailing me in the head with a fucking rock.

“What.” I groan, refusing to open my eyes.

“I need. Your help. With something.” He growls out each word, as if saying them is hurting him.  
I crack open an eye and see him standing over me ominously. His fist is clenched and he’s moving side-to-side, like he’s nervous.

“What is it?” I sigh, sitting up.

He takes a step back to give me some room.  
“I need to change the bandages on my arm. They’re filthy, and I only have one hand. Thanks again for that.”

“I wasn’t the one who cut it off,” I sigh, trailing after him as he walks towards his supplies. “You’re just using me as a scapegoat.”

“What are you, a psychiatrist? Fuck off.”

“Gladly.” I stop in my tracks and begin to turn around.

“Uh, wait—“ Viper grabs into my arm, before letting go as if I had burnt him. “Sorry, just...” A sigh. “Please help me? I don’t want it to get infected.”

He fidgets as I watch him.  
It’s obviously difficult for him to ask for help, much less in a (vaguely) polite manner. I wonder if that stems from his time in the Apex Predators, or if he’s always been so stubborn.

“Fine,” I sigh. “Let’s just do it.”  
He leads me towards his tent, where he has bandages and a bottle of some sort of alcohol set out.  
He sits next to his stash and stares up at me expectantly.

I try to get the whole ordeal finished quickly, but it’s not like I’m a medic.  
The sight alone nearly makes me puke, and the smell certainly isn’t helping. Who knew running through the forest with a missing arm wouldn’t be good.  
I don’t know if there’s any sort of infection, but the scabbing red mess doesn’t look good to me.

“There,” I grunt as I finish tying off the bandages. It’s not neat or pretty, but I figure it’ll get the job done.

“Good enough, Bandit,” Viper says softly. “Good enough.”

—————————————————

It feels like we’ve been walking in circles. All of the trees look the same, and I’m pretty sure I’ve seen that rock a couple of times. Or maybe I’m just hallucinating. Either one seems like a viable explanation.

The sun is setting quickly, and I can shake the feeling that we haven’t made any sort of progress.  
But, for all I know, there’s no end to this. There’s a large chance we’ll never find our way off this planet.  
The thought of being stuck here for the rest of my life fills me with dread.

“Shit— Bandit!” Viper calls. “Look!”  
I turn around quickly, worried that he’s fallen or gotten stuck. But all I see is him standing behind me, pointing at something in the distance.

I follow the direction of his finger, and see something peeking through the foliage.  
“Oh, a river!” I smile. “Good eyes, Viper!”  
I push through the plants until I reach the edge of the water, and then begin to pull my gear off.

“What are you doing?” He keeps his distance, just watching me. 

“I’m gonna wash myself off,” I answer. “I’m all sweaty and gross. You’re welcome to wash off somewhere else, but don’t just stand there and watch me!”

He calls me a moron before walking downstream.

I strip until I’m left only in my underwear, and wade into the freezing water. I try not to slip over the rocks as the water rushes past me.  
I splash it over my body, attempting to get rid of all the blood, sweat, and dirt.

I feel better once I’m clean. Once all of my sins have been washed away, or however it goes.  
I pull all my clothes on once I’m dry, and begin to make my way towards where Viper is supposed to be.

“Hey, uh—“ I cut myself off as I see him.  
He’s naked, but is (thankfully) facing the other way. That’s the first thing I notice. The second thing I notice is the mess of blond hair on his head.  
He’s blond? I guess that might explain a lot.

He must’ve heard me, because he glances back.

“Shit! No!” He covers his face and turns away before I have the chance to actually see anything. “Fuck off!”  
I stumble back towards where we separated.  
I don’t really know why I thought it would be a good idea to follow him. Ugh. I’m never going to hear the end of this.

An hour passed before Viper finally shows up.  
He trudged towards me, seemingly attempting to take as long as possible.  
He passes by me and walks straight into the forest.  
Huh.  
I guess he’s not in the mood to yell at me.

He pushes forward, refusing to look at me as I trail after him. He has his arm wrapped around his stomach in a sort of self-hug, and I hate that it makes me feel guilty.

“Viper,” I speak up, and I can see him flinch. “Sorry. I didn’t know you had your helmet off.”

He stops in his tracks, causing me to nearly run into him. “Just—“ He opens and closes his hand, before letting his arm drop down at his side. “Whatever. Just forget about it.”

———————————————————

Viper hasn’t drawn a line in the dirt tonight. I don’t know if there’s some sort of significance to that, but I like to think that it’s more than that he just forgot.

He’s sitting in the opposite side of the fire, staring at me. My helmet is on the ground at my side, and I have BT’s datacore cradled protectively in my lap.  
It feels like we’ve reached some sort of standstill, where neither of us want to make the next move.  
Both of us are unsure of the others intentions, and the delicate trust between us is strained.

A nervous sort of shifting. The tapping of a rhythm apparent only to the maestro. The brilliant red glow of an IMC visor.

“What’s it’s name?” His question cuts through the silence like a knife. I glance down at BT briefly.

“His name’s BT.” I answer quietly. A nod, followed by a burst of coughing. He rubs a hand over his chest, shaking his head as if to clear a thought.  
“Your ribs?” His hand stops, and he stares at me for a minute before nodding. “Broken?” A shake ‘no.’ “Oh, just bruised?”

“Yeah,” He speaks quietly, and it’s hard to tell what he’s saying. Although, he always speaks softly when he’s not yelling at me. He seems to be a naturally quiet guy.  
“All the walking hasn’t helped.”

I press my lips together tightly, and look away. “We could take a rest day. Just to let you heal a bit.”

“If it’s not too big a deal,” He shrugs. “I guess it’s not like we have some sort of time limit here.”  
He’s got a point. There’s no promise we’re actually heading towards something. A few days of rest couldn’t hurt us.

————————————————————

“What’s your name?”  
Viper sits next to me as we pass an MRE back and forth.

“Why do you want to know?” I ask, covering my mouth with my hand. A shrug in response.

“Figure you don’t want me to keep calling you Bandit, Bandit,” There’s a light laugh in his tone. “It’s the only name the IMC gave me to call you. Thought it was stupid.”

I weight my options as he watches me expectantly.  
On one hand, he’ll stop calling me ‘Bandit,’ and I might be able to get his name in return. On the other hand, I’d be giving my name to a dangerous war criminal.  
But then again, I'm the one who has two arms. I could put him down if necessary. 

“I’ll tell you my name if you tell me yours.” He perks you when I start talking, but drops back down when he realizes what I’m asking.

Viper runs a hand over the side of his helmet before huffing. “Fine. But you tell me first.”

I pause, before holding a hand out towards him.  
“Jack Cooper, at your service.” He stares at my hand, before grabbing and shaking it. He has a really strong grip...

“Dominic Taylor. Don’t wear it out.”  
Huh. It’s such a normal name for a strange person like him. I had expected ‘Ace’ or ‘Ripley.’ Although, I guess his mom didn’t know he would turn out like this.

“If you don’t mind my asking, where did the whole ‘Viper’ thing come from?”  
He sighs, crossing his legs and placing his hand on his knee.

“You ever hear of the movie Top Gun?”

“Heard of it, yes. Watched it, no.”

“Well, long story short, it’s about these old military jet pilots. It’s actually kind of cool, seeing all of the old technology. But that’s not the point. The thing is, I was obsessed with this movie when I was younger. There was a character with the callname ‘Viper,’ and I just decided to go with that.”

I can’t help but laugh at that. It’s so painfully in-character for him to name himself after a character in some pre-war action movie.  
“I’ll have to watch it, sometime. Do they still sell it?”

“Hell, it’s so old it might be public access. I know some good places for finding old stuff, though. I’ll have to show you when we’re out of here.”  
I... really don’t know what to think of that.  
Ignoring the fact that he’s offering to take me _antique shopping,_ he also seems to think that we’ll be sticking together once (if) we’re off this planet. Is it wishful thinking? Is it something more sinister?

I chew on my lip, a nervous habit that I’ve tried to kick countless times. “You know of any places on Harmony?”

He barks out a single, harsh ‘ha!’  
“God, I wouldn’t touch Harmony with a 50-foot pole. You couldn’t pay me to go there.”

“It’s not a bad planet.” I mutter defensively.

“It’s got looks, sure. But all the inhabitants are Militia bootlickers. No offense.”

“And IMC-controlled planets are better?”

“Never said that. The people there will suck your dick for the chance to get more rations. Ha!”  
I scrunch my nose at the distasteful ‘joke.’ Spending years at the top of the food chain hasn’t made him very sympathetic.

“Is it really that bad?” I ask.

“Mm. Resources are hard to come by. Everyone’s kept on a tight schedule. I’m sure you’re used to that concept.” He shrugs.

I hum in response, drawing in the dirt with my finger.  
Sure, food is regulated in the Militia, but everyone gets a fair share. But I guess things work differently in the IMC  
Viper isn’t scrawny by any definition of the word, so it’s clear he wasn’t short on food.  
Then again, he was in the Apex Predators. It’s not like he was hurting for money.

“Was Militia food as bad as the stuff the IMC has?” He shifts where he’s sitting, resting an elbow on his leg.

I roll my eyes. “Don’t get me started. I’m so tired of mystery meat and nutritionally-enhanced mush.”  
He laughs— a low, deep sound that emenates from his chest. 

“Tell me about it! I’m pretty sure I’ve found actual human fingers in my food. God, I’m about to throw up just thinking about it.”

“Oh, ew,” I snicker. “Maybe I shouldn’t take Militia food for granted.”

“Eh. You never really appreciate something until it’s gone.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a super short chapter ugh.... I had a lot of trouble with this one but I wanted to get something done and post it. I might post the next chapter early idk

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I mutter, staring warily at the log bridging one side of the forest to another. 

“The water’s too fast to wade through,” Viper answers gravely, as if he’s an expert on this sort of thing. I wouldn’t be surprised if he claimed he was. “We’re going to have to get across somehow. This is our best bet.”

I make a strangled sort of groan as I stare down.  
That water’s moving _really_ fast, and I’m honestly not that great of a swimmer. (Not that I’d admit that, though. That’s a one-way ticket to getting him to push me in a lake.)  
“You think you could balance on it? I mean... you’re kind of lopsided.” 

“You don’t say,” He drawls, glancing at me over his shoulder. “Thanks for that, again. But yeah, I can make it over. I haven’t come all this way just to die falling off a fucking log. No way.”

“If you say so...” I mutter, eyeing the white water. 

Viper goes first (I didn’t force him to do it. He just decided that, as the “chosen leader” of our “group”, he should be the one to lead the way.)  
I want to stick right behind him, but I don’t trust the half-rotten log with our combined weight.

He takes longer than I expected, and has his one arm stuck out to the side. He wobbles a little during his crossing, but manages to make it across.

“Okay, if I can do it, you definitely have no excuse.”

I hate to admit that he’s right.  
I plant one foot on the log, cringing at the loud creaking of the wood. I step on fully, half expecting it to just give out. When nothing happens, I take a few tentative steps forward.  
So far, so good.

“Just get it over with,” Viper calls. “Like a bandaid. It’s better if you just keep moving.”

I can’t even think of some sort of retort, seeing as I’m busy trying to not slip and die.  
I continue forward slowly, freezing at every soft creak coming from the log.  
Viper doesn’t say anything, likely realizing that he’ll throw me off.

I’m about halfway across when the log moves.  
I have to regain my balance before I glare up at him.  
He’s standing right next to the end of the tree, and his foot is _dangerously_ close to the end of it.

“Don’t touch it.” I hiss, taking another hesitant step forward. 

“I didn’t,” He says, like a liar. “Just keep moving so that we can keep going.”

When I finally step back onto solid ground, I let out a sigh of relief. “Okay, I’m never gonna do that agai—“ The sounds of the log rolling over and crashing down I to the water cuts me off.  
We both stare down at the water stupidly as it floats away. “Guess we’re not going back that way anytime soon.” I say eventually.

—————————————————

“I _didn’t_ push it off,” Viper says for the hundredth time. “So stop looking at me like that.”

“You’re not even looking at me,” I counter, growing tired of his game. “And I never said that I thought you pushed it.”

“I can feel you judging me, though. I got, like, a fifth sense.”

“It’s your sixth sense,” I sigh. “Everyone has five senses.”

He pauses, and then grumbles something about me being an idiot.  
I’m starting to get _really_ tired of this back and forth thing he constantly starts.  
I’m almost mad that we can’t just go out separate ways. I’m only staying with him because he wouldn’t be able to survive on his own. Yeah, that’s what it is.  
Stupid guilt.

I’ll just have to wait it out. Possibly for the rest of my life. Maybe he’ll trip and break his neck. Ugh. No, I shouldn’t say that. If something ends up happening to him, he’ll probably find a way to ruin me as well. He’s not the type to go out without a fight.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a writer for titanfall 3 and I can confirm that the entire game is just beating Blisk to within an inch of his life and then making out with your bf

“Stop staring straight up, you’re going to get dizzy.”

“Shut up, mom.”  
Viper and I are standing in the center of a large canyon, examining the large stone walls surrounding us.  
The forest had split open to reveal the giant crack in the mountain, and we had assumed the thinning foliage meant civilization. 

“Can’t fucking believe this,” He finally lowers his gaze and begins pacing back and forth. “Got all excited for a goddamn mountain. Can you believe this, Cooper?” 

“We’ll just have to keep moving,” I sigh. “Nothing else we can do.” I begin to walk through the canyon slowly, and I can hear Viper trail after me.  
As much as I hate this planet, I can’t deny that it’s beautiful. It reminds me of the old pictures of Earth (back when Earth still had forests. All but a select few are gone, now.)  
The cliff face is impressive, too. There are deep lines in the rock that almost seem to form a pattern. They almost seem intentional...

“Cooper,” He speaks up. “We’re not the first people on this planet.”  
I pause before glancing back at him. He’s staring up at the wall of rock, a hand pressed against one of the long scars. 

“What do you mean?” I ask quietly, moving closer to him.

“These marks,” He mutters. “These are from explosives and mining drills.”

“How can you tell?”

He snorts, trailing his hand down. “Being an IMC Pilot wasn’t all guns and glamour. Before the war really kicked off, I spent most of my time just watching miners to make sure nobody stole any rocks, or something.”

“Watching rocks all day, huh? Must’ve been exciting.”

“The most interesting thing that happened was when a boulder fell on someone. That was pretty funn- _ow_ shit!”  
He ducks as a fairly small rock bounces off the top of his helmet. After I finish laughing, I ask if he’s okay.  
“Yeah. I’m fine.” He says, (presumably) glaring at the mountain.

“Maybe I should—“ I pull my helmet onto my head. “Yeah, that’s better. Let’s get out of here before you break your helmet. This place is staring to freak me out.”

“Yeah. This place sucks.”

——————————————————

“I spy with my little eye something... uh, something brown.”

“A tree?”

“Not this time.”

“Dirt?”

“Nope.”

“You know, your jumpsuit is starting to look brown.”

“Very funny, jackass. But no.”

“Uh... my boots?”

A pause, then a sigh. “This game sucks.”

“You can just admit that you’re a sore loser.”

“Over my dead body, you bastard.”

“Funny you should say that.”

——————————————————

“How long were you with your titan?”

“My Northstar?” Viper asks. I nod in response. “Hmm. Probably around... 7 years? Yeah. 7 years.”

“Wow, that’s a long run for a Northstar. I thought they got scrapped after 3?”

“If you don’t take care of it. They’re difficult to keep on top condition, but it’s worth it to stick with one neural link. Too many can be dangerous.”

“Really?”

“Oh, absolutely. There’s a max of... 10 I think? You can only have 10 before your brain gets all scrambled. It’s why the IMC keeps backups of all their titan AIs, to prevent unneeded neural links.”

“What number are you on?”

“God, but me a drink first, Cooper,” He chuckles. “But I’m on my third link. Well, I _was_ on my third link.”  
There’s a long pause, and I can tell that he doesn’t like to think about the fact that his titan is gone.  
I got lucky. He didn’t.  
“Never mind. What about you?”

“Oh, just one.” I answer, not really thinking about what I’m admitting.

A beat. “Only one?” His voice has a strange quality to it— quiet, but with something unidentifiable underneath. “How long have you had this link?”

“Uh... a while,” I answer, trying to dodge his question without actually lying. “We’re a pretty good match, and...” I stop talking as he continues to stare at me.

“How long?” He asks again. 

He doesn’t seem... _angry_ exactly, just impatient. “A week,” I finally admit. “Just a week.”

“You’re fresh out of Pilot training?” His tone still hasn’t changed, and I can’t tell if it’s better or worse than the yelling. 

“No...” I draw the word out, cringing slightly. “I... don’t have any formal training.”  
He hums, his fist clenched at his side. He doesn’t make any sort of move toward me, though. Like he’s waiting for something. 

“You’re not certified?”  
I shake my head in response.  
“What are you, then?” 

“Technically, a class-three rifleman.”

“A class-three rifleman,” He repeats. “I nearly died to a class-three rifleman.”

“ _Almost,_ ” I say. “But you didn’t!” 

“20 years of piloting, and I lose to a goddamn class-three rifleman.”  
I don’t say anything in response, because this feels like something he’s going to have to stew over.

I probably shouldn’t have told him any of this— he’s volatile enough, as is. Losing at all has wounded his ego, and this feels like shooting a crippled racehorse.  
I guess it’s the kindest thing to do, in the end. He was going to figure it out eventually.


	7. Chapter 7

Annie Cooper sits at her desk, typing away at the computer. Her boss had offered her time off, but she had refused.  
Time spent not working was time spent thinking. And she really, _really_ did not want to think right now.

She had seen the news reel (just about everyone had) declaring the death of Militia Pilot/Terrorist Jack Cooper.

She had wondered when Jack became a Pilot.  
He had mentioned being trained by a man named Lastimosa, but had claimed it would likely go nowhere. None of his letters ever mentioned being promoted.

She wanted to contact the Militia— to ask for any information they had, but knew it was unlikely they would tell her anything.

Annie pauses in her typing, her hands hovering over the keyboard.  
It hasn’t really... _hit_ yet. The knowledge that Jack is dead. It didn’t feel real. It felt like some sort of cosmic joke that everyone else knew.  
Annie hates not being part of inside jokes.

When she first saw the report, she hadn’t believed it. She was convinced that if Jack had died, she would know immediately. But the longer Jack went without sending some sort of message, the more discouraged she got.

She pulls in a shuddering breath and wipes a hand over her face. “Oh my god...” She whispers.  
She’ll visit mom and dad later, in order to break the news (as they refused to have a TV. They relied on the _newspaper_ of all things.)

Annie sniffs and shakes her head to clear her mind. Now’s not the time to think about it. She has work to do.

————————————————

“I’m about to go stir-fucking-crazy,” Viper is pacing back and forth, his hand on his hip. “I can’t stand not doing anything. Are we going to start moving soon?”

I glance up at him briefly, before returning my attention to the helmet in my lap. “I don’t know,” I grunt, scratching a particularly stubborn bit of dirt off. “Are your ribs any better?”

“Yes, okay? They’re perfectly healed and I feel like running a marathon so can we just start moving?” It’s obvious that he’s lying, but the opportunity to pick on him is too great to ignore.

“Yeah?” I smile, setting the helmet down and standing up. “Lemme see.”

“What?” He stops in his pacing, watching me warily as I approach. “N... no, I’m not going to show you! What are you, some sort of fucking—“  
He shuts up when I grab the front of his gear.  
And for a moment, I just stand there. He shifts from foot to foot, glancing between my hand and my face. It’s almost funny, how nervous he gets when I’m lose to him.

“Are you really ready to start hiking again?” I ask quietly.

A beat, and then he nods. “Yeah,” He reaches up and gently pushes my arm away. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s get going.”  
I watch silently as he walks back to his tent.

That’s... not exactly the reaction I had expected.

——————————————————

Viper stumbles through the forest in front of me, clinging onto his knapsack tightly. He’s walking at a slower pace than before, and I think his wounds are starting to act up.  
I know that he’s too proud to admit it, though. Most pilots are.

It seems that he falls victim to the typical Pilot arrogance. Having complete control over a battlefield does wonders to your ego.  
That’s why defeat is so crushing— they don’t know how to react to a threat that’s higher up on the food chain. Maybe it’s a good thing I was never formally trained.

I’m broken out of my thoughts as something wet hits the top of my head. I glance up at the rapidly darkening sky.  
“Uh, Dominic?” I speak up, not really realizing that I’m using his real name. “I think it’s about to start pouring.”

“Huh?” He looks back at me, before shifting his attention upwards. “Oh shit. Looks bad,”  
He sets his bag down before pulling the tarp out. “We’ll wait it out. I hate getting wet.”

I stand still as he sets the tarp over a branch. “We?” I ask. “You’re gonna let me stay in your little tent?”

“I don’t want you to get a cold or something. That’s the last thing I want to deal with right now.”

We both take shelter in the makeshift tent as it begins to rain harder. It’s definitely a tight fit, and we basically have to sit on each other to make it work.  
It only takes a few minutes for the drizzle to become a full-blown downpour. The sound of the rain hitting the leaves is ridiculously loud, and I can barely hear myself think.

Feels like we’re in our own little world, now. I shouldn’t let my guard down, considering who I’m with, but I can’t help but relax. It’s been forever since I got the chance to sit and just... exist.

“Cooper,” Viper says softly. I almost didn’t hear him, but the hand he placed on my arm had drawn my attention. “Do you believe in god?”  
I pause, keeping my gaze focused on the rain outside.

“Why do you ask?”

“I dunno,” He sighs. “It’s just... what if we never get off this planet? What if I die from some infection? I don’t want a tree to be the last thing I see before I die and go to hell. Do you think you’re going to hell, Cooper?”

I lick my lips before daring to glance over at him. Despite being hidden by a visor, his gaze holds onto mine. “Not sure,” I mutter truthfully. “I don’t think anyone is sure.”  
A soft hum in response, and he turns away.

The rain is still coming down in buckets. I wonder how long I’ll be stuck in here with him. Forever, maybe. 

“You know,” He starts. “You and I aren’t that different.”  
I can’t help but scoff at that, and I can feel the hand on my arm tighten. “It’s true. We’re both fighting for something we want, we both think military food sucks ass, we’re both incredibly funny—“

“I think you’re just talking about yourself, now.” I cut in.

“See? That’s how similar we are. I think we could make a good team.”

“Only if you’re considering joining the Militia.”

He scrunches his nose as if he smells something awful. “Ugh. God, no. Y’know, we should just start our own faction. We do... ‘good’ things, but still get payed a shit ton of money. It’s a win-win!”

I can’t help but laugh, because it sounds like he’s actually considering this.  
Although, it makes sense that he’s taking it (somewhat) seriously. It’s not like he has anywhere to go.  
“What would it be called?” I ask, deciding to play along. 

“Hmm... I dunno. Top Gun?”

“You’re unbelievable.” I chuckle.  
It’s a nice thought, but ultimately impossible. If I manage to get an SOS out to the Militia, and they manage to find us, they’ll probably just shoot Viper on sight.  
The thought causes something akin to guilt to settle in my stomach.

“You’re not looking to retire?” I change the subject. “Thought you had enough to be living the high life.”

He chuckles, letting go of my arm in order to pat my leg. “Hardly. Most of my money went to titan modifications. It’s not cheap keeping a Northstar airborn, you know.”

“Oh yeah, your titan— she was really impressive. I could tell you’d been with her for a while,” I try to gauge his reaction as I speak to see if this is something that will upset him. He still has a lazy sort of air around him, so I continue. “It was a tough fight.”

He hums, nodding absentmindedly. “Called her Harpy. She was my... third titan, I think? All Northstars, but I really clicked with her,” His voice seems to waver slightly, but he pushes on. “But... you know...” He pulls his hand away from my leg and sniffs. “Whatever.”

Ah, shit. I shouldn’t have brought that up. Reminding him of the fact that I killed his favorite titan probably wasn’t the greatest idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omggggg sleepover questions
> 
> Also I have a playlist for this story lmaooo
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/v6jlpphxodfm3i3s0d0getmd6/playlist/5WxKvqOadsTonmh80OFFZp?si=6mEc-kENRc6Wp-MyHHVj3w


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Important: In this story, Cooper is very slightly radioactive bc of all the batshit stuff he did in TF2. This has no effect on the story, but just know that if Viper were to hug Cooper for five days straight he would get radiation poisoning.

“Cooper,” Something nudges my leg. “Wake up.”  
My eyes crack open, and the sunlight nearly blinds me. Seems like the storm is done, and that Viper has taken it upon himself to pack up without me.

“I’m up,” I grunt, pushing myself off of the ground.  
I glance over and see him standing with his bag in hand, looking like he’s been waiting for me to wake up. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s the truth. He’s not exactly patient.  
“You’re ready to go out already?”

“Just figured we’d get a head start,” He shrugs.  
So he’s not deciding to be mute. That’s... good? At least last night’s conversation hasn’t gotten him into some sort of mood.  
“Time’s money, and I’d prefer to be frugal about this whole operation.”

——————————————————

Last night’s rain has caused the planet’s dirt to turn to mud. I wouldn’t call myself a clean freak, but I would prefer to nit have to pull myself through ankle-deep slop.

Viper’s having a harder time than I am, though. Most of his front is covered in mud. He’s been muttering to himself the entire time, and keeps yelling at the ground whenever he falls.  
I’d laugh if the air between us wasn’t so dense.

He’s being fairly amicable (by his standards, at least) and it almost seems like he’s ignoring last night’s conversation. Like he’s forgotten it even happened.  
I don’t know if this is supposed to be some sort of truce, but I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

I’m broken out of my thoughts as I walk straight into him. He must’ve stopped walking.  
“What are you—“

“Shh,” His hand is at his side, as if he’s reaching for a gun. “We’re not alone, Bandit.”  
The use of the nickname throws me off at first, but then I realize what he’s saying. There’s something (or someone) in here with us— using the codename is just a precaution. 

Once he’s pointed it out, the signs seem clear as day.  
The plants are moving, despite the lack of a breeze.  
There’s a snap in the foliage as a twig is broken.  
A strange clicking noise fills the air.

“In the back pocket,” He mutters. “Grab the gun.”  
I don’t even stop to think about what he’s saying, instead just reaching into his bag blindly and pulling out a (surprisingly clean) Wingman.  
A quick check reveals that there are only five bullets left.

The clicking noise grows louder, and I can see something white poking through the cracks of the leaves. 

“Viper,” I say, pulling the Wingman’s hammer back with a soft click.

And then, this _thing_ charged towards me.  
My first shot misses— four left.  
I hear Viper shout as the animal knocks me over, planting it’s head directly against my chest.

I push the barrel of the gun against whatever part of the creature I can reach and fire. It roars in pain, and I can feel the blood gushing out onto me, but it doesn’t stop.

I fire again— two left. It roars again and now it’s _biting_ me.  
Another shot, and it finally collapses.

A long bout of silence as I try and catch my breath.  
“ _Holy shit_ , Cooper!” He helps roll the heavy corpse off of me. “You okay? That thing’s huge, are you hurt?” 

“I’m fine,” I grunt, not bothering to get up. Now I’m covered in dirt and drenched in blood. I probably look like I just escape a horror movie. 

I finally get up when he begins to tap my shoulder and ask if I’m still alive.

————————————————————

Neither of us are sure if this thing is actually edible, but we’re both too tired of MREs to really care.  
It doesn’t really taste good, but I’m not about to complain.

“What’s up with the whole—“ Viper speaks up through a mouth full of food, waving a hand in my direction. “Morse code thing?” At my confused expression, he continues. “Your helmet’s been flashing on and off since the shuttle. I didn’t mention it then, ‘cause I wanted to kick your throat in.”

I swallow, eyeing him warily. “Thanks for the warning...”

“Not saying that’s still my plan,” He grind. In the light of the fire, I can see the deep scars marring the part of his face I can see. “Back to my question. You got an SOS going out, or something?”

I glance down at my helmet. The visor is dark, and I haven’t noticed the opposite. “Not that I know of. I thought it was broken, actually. I have no idea what you’ve been seeing.”

He tilts his head. “Broken, huh? Did it get damaged in the fall?”  
I shrug in response. “You know, I could take a look at it if you want. See what’s going on underneath the hood, so to speak.”

I know that he really doesn’t mean anything by it, but the thought of letting an Apex Predator (although, to be fair, an ex-Apex Predator) _touch Lastimosa’s helmet_ makes me feel sick. It would be a betrayal to his memory.

“No,” I answer decisively. “It’s fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait to post this chapter, but just consider it an early Christmas present :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this is the last chapter I have pre-written, so expect chapters to take a little longer from here on out.   
> But, thank you all for the hits! Take this as a late Christmas present ;)

“Oh, it’s doing it again,” Viper speaks up suddenly, pointing at my helmet.  
I glance down, and see that the visor is blinking erratically. Huh. I guess he wasn’t lying.

“Hm,” I pick it up, staring down at the visor. “Morse code?”

“That’s what it looks like. You know how to translate it?”

“Yes, I know Morse code,” I huff. The flashes continue on, spelling something out. “A, C, K... J. Jack! It’s my name!”

“Shit, really?” He sounds excited, and quickly scoots closer to get a better look at my helmet. “ _Someone’s_ trying to get your attention.”

“Clearly. But who? How would it pick anything up out here?”

He hums, and places a hand on his chin. “Life’s full of questions, isn’t it?” He says, amusement evident in his tone. “But maybe it’s not coming from off-planet. Did your titan ever link up with your helmet?”

I mentally backtrack, trying to find a moment that matches up with what he’s describing.  
“Oh, I’m the IMC facility that’s held the Ark— BT said he transferred some of his AI functions into my helmet.”

He snaps his fingers and points down at my helmet. “I’ll bet my other arm that’s what this is. You’ve got one hell of a titan there, Cooper.” He sounds really impressed— like he actually admires BT’s ingenuity. 

“Think he can hear us?” I ask, trailing my thumb along the visor.

“Don’t see why not,” He shrugs. “He must be fuckin’ pissed, huh? Having to sit there and listen to you fraternize with the enemy.”  
I can hear the grin in his voice, and the urge to punch him in the face grows stronger.  
He’s right, but I don’t want to hear it.

“It’s like you’re trying to dig yourself into a deeper hole,” I sigh. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. If we get there.”

Another shrug. “If you say so.”

——————————————————

“What do you think’ll happen once we get off this planet?”  
Dominic is sitting next to me, and we’re both staring ahead at the dying fire.

“It’s not good to get caught up on what if’s.” I sigh.

He hums, staring down at his lap. “Humor me?” He asks, and his voice is almost too quiet to hear. 

I pause, before swallowing. “I don’t know,” I mutter. “If you’re not... shot on sight, you’ll probably go on trial. You’re, uh... not exactly popular.”

He laughs quietly, pressing a hand against the front of his helmet. “Aw, shit. Could you imagine that? Me sitting in some backwoods Militia courthouse— d’you think they’ll give me a suit?”

I punch his arm gently. “It’s not funny, asshole.”

“Maybe not to you, but I appreciate the irony. Right out of one terrible situation into another. Out of the frying pan, and onto the grill.”

“That’s not how the saying goes,” I can’t help but reply. From the way he laughs, I can tell it’s the answer he wanted. “Don’t laugh, this is a serious conversation!” 

“Well, _I’m_ the one with the biggest bounty on my head, so _I’m_ going to decide the tone of this conversation.”

“Is that how this works?”

“That’s how it worked in the Predators. Well, it was more that whoever was the highest-ranking got to talk first. It was always Blisk, so we would always get stuck talking about boring shit. You’d think the most wanted war criminal in the Frontier would have something interesting to talk about. They were lucky to have me! I was the only one who kept things interesting.”  
He’s patting himself on the chest, and I can tell he’s filing himself up.

“You’re giving yourself a lot of credit, here.” I chuckle. 

“I am incredibly humble,” He replies, sitting up straight. “But it was my burden to bear the title of ‘Most Interesting Apex Predator.’ Kane was probably the runner-up, though. That bastard was so drugged up he couldn’t tell you his own name! Ha!”

“It was the _only_ thing he told me when I fought him,” I grumble. “He always spoke in third person, too. What was that about?” 

“Hell if I know. I just tried to ignore him, most of the time. He had this _look_ in his eye, y’know? Like he wanted to _do_ something to you. I never trusted him.”

“If you hated the Apex Predators so much, why did you stay?”

“Do you really need to ask me at this point?”

“Oh,” I nod. “Money.”

“Cha-ching,” He replies, shooting a finger gun in my direction. I can’t help but laugh at how cheesy he looks. “Money makes the world go round, babe. Nothing like it.”

——————————————————

When I’m woken up by being shaken violently, I don’t even have the chance to complain.  
I’m dropped onto the ground with a harsh thud, and a hand is pressed over my mouth. 

“Shh,” Viper says, trying to keep me quiet. “Cooper, listen.” He pulls his hand back once I stop moving, allowing me to sit up. 

“What—“

“Shh! Listen!”  
I have to strain my ears to hear it, but now I know what has Viper so exited. It’s quiet, but it’s definitely there— the noise of a distant ship.

“A shuttle?” I whisper.

“I think so. It was closer, earlier, and it woke me up. No idea who it belongs to.”

“We’re not alone...” I say, as if I need to hear it to believe it. “Holy shit, Dominic!” I grab onto his shoulders tightly. “We’re not alone!”

He laughs, sounding genuinely delighted, and grabs onto one of my own shoulders. “Cooper, I swear. We’re get off this planet if it’s the last thing we do.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to stop playing Hollow Knight cause it made me too CRAZY!! Augh Id get so mad! It’s a great game though.
> 
> Also pwease leave comments 🥺 they make my day and I love any and all tips and recommendations

Both of us are too excited to sleep, so we decide to pack up and start following the noise.  
Viper is buzzing with energy, moving quickly through the forest with renewed vigor. I don’t think I’ve seen him so excited in the unfortunate weeks we’ve spent together.

When the sun finally starts to rise, we’ve slowed down our pace to a more manageable speed. We’ve kept chatter down to a minimum, too focused on trying to listen for any more noises. 

In all likelihood, if the sounds weren’t just a collective hallucination, we’re just heading towards a factory or automated refueling station (Which are surprisingly popular on uninhabited flyover planets.)  
Some part of me hopes it’ll be a Militia base I didn’t know about, but I’ll take what I can get.

Although, a small voice in my head dreads being rescued. It sounds insane, but I’d kind of miss this close camaraderie when a Dominic is inevitable executed for numerous war crimes.  
Oh god.  
I’m feeling sad at the thought of losing my war criminal best friend. Being stuck in a forest is making me go insane. 

Viper doesn’t seem to share my reservations, though. And it’s not like I can blame him— I _did_ nearly kill him. And destroy his titan. And (indirectly) cause him to lose his arm. Neither of us can plead innocent in this situation. 

I wonder if I should apologize for that...  
No, not right now, at least. He’s in a good mood and I don’t want to ruin it by bringing up the topic. I’ll just have to wait for a better opportunity.

Viper slows down as we approach a clearing. Seeming almost hesitant.  
“Cooper...” He breaks the silence, stopping in his tracks. “Holy shit, Cooper, look!” He kneels at the edge of the clearing, where the ground suddenly drops far below, and points at something in the distance.  
Following his finger, I can just barely make out something breaking the monotonous sea of trees. 

“A town..?” I whisper, as if speaking loudly will cause the whole thing to disappear.  
He hums in agreement, standing up and glancing back at me. 

For a moment, we just stare. This is exactly what we’ve been waiting for— a chance to get off this planet. It almost seems too good to be true. 

“Come on,” Dominic says warmly, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s get off this dirtball.”  
And in a fit of sentimentality (or just plain stupidity,) I pull him into a hug.

He stiffens at first, and I’m worried that I’ve overstepped a boundary, but a hand grinning my back keeps me from pulling away.  
“Couldn’t have done it without you,” I mutter.  
He sniffs and nods in response, but it tells me everything I need to know.

———————————————————

Once we awkwardly let go of each other, we decide to employ our jump kits in order to make it down from the cliff.  
It’s not nearly as nerve wracking as jumping out of the shuttle had been, but it still makes my stomach twist uncomfortably. 

We land cleanly enough, and neither of us sport any new injuries. Although, I doubt we would have stopped if either of us had gotten hurt. 

This section of forest is filled with large pine trees, and I have to put my helmet on to keep the needles from poking me in the face.  
Viper pushes forward relentlessly. He occasionally glances back (in order to make sure he hasn’t lost me, I think) but maintains a steady pace.

From what I saw, the town didn’t seem like a military installation. I could only make out what looked like a warehouse, but not much else. Hopefully there’ll be equipment to send a message off-planet. 

Although, speaking of messages, I’ll have to discuss any plans with Dominic before I set them in action.  
It’s a given that he’ll have a problem with me contacting the Militia, but I don’t know who else to call.  
Maybe he’ll know someone. After working as a mercenary for so many years, he’s bound to have made at least a few friends. (If he’s capable of making friends at all. Though, I guess I’m living proof that at least one person is dumb enough to let him get close.)

Seems like most of my plans involve pretty big ifs. He could join the Militia _if_ they don’t shoot him on sight and _if_ he actually wants to do it. We could get out of here _if_ he knows some neutral third party that’d pick us up. We might stick together after this _if_ he doesn’t decide that I’m unneeded.  
There’s nothing I hate more than uncertainty. 

It’s only an hour or so before Viper stops suddenly, causing me to run into him yet again.  
He kneels down, reaching back to pull me along.  
“Look,” He mumbles, keeping his gaze fixed forward.  
I can see movement in the space between the trees, and hear what sounds like people talking in the distance. 

“We’re—“

“Shh,” He turns to face me. “We’re gonna have to be careful about this, yeah? There’s no telling if everyone here is an IMC bootlicker or not. We can’t just walk in wearing our pilot gear. It’d be too suspicious.”

I look him up an down, my lip curling slightly.  
“You’re wearing clothes under your flight suit, right?”

“What? No, no! I’m not saying we strip and then run in!” He knocks his fist against the top of my helmet. “I’m _saying_ that _one_ of us should go in and scope out the place. The one that _doesn’t_ look like he just escaped from an IMC death shuttle.”

“Oh,” I say, now feeling stupid. “Yeah, that makes sense. I’m assuming you want me to go in?”

“Duh,” He answers, and I just _know_ he’s rolling his eyes. “You’ve got that ‘lost puppy’ look that we need. You’re way more likable than I am.”

My face heats up slightly, and I’m glad I’m wearing my helmet. “I’ll be lucky if I don’t come across as a ‘lost homeless murderer.’ But you’re right. You are severely lacking in your people skills.”

“Eat my ass,” He replies, as if he’s somehow proving me wrong. “You have normal clothes under your suit, right?”

“Yes I do,” I pull my helmet off, holding it out to him without a second thought.  
“Just... don’t ruin my stuff, okay? I know you have it out for me but it’s important to me.”

He turns my helmet over in his hand, examining it closely.  
“It’ll be safe with me,” He says, and I can’t help but believe him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you guys think viper would watch rick and morty lol

Once I’ve stripped down to my (frankly disgusting) undershirt and pants, Viper begins to lay out his plan.

“So you’re gonna go in, scope things out and ask for help, and I’ll come in if things look promising. If not,” He holds the Wingman out to me, not continuing until I grab it. “Well, lets just hope it won’t come to that. But better safe than sorry.”

I ignore the uneasy twisting in my gut, choosing to slip the gun under my belt.  
“I’m setting the stage for your grand entrance?” I joke, in an attempt to hide how worried I am.

“Exactly,” He chuckles, gathering my gear under his arm. “But... just be careful, okay? This is a big risk and I don’t want to be stuck with your titan.”  
BT’s datacore is tucked safely in one of his pockets (it took a long back-and-forth discussion and threats to get him to hold BT,) and I can only hope this won’t end with the two of them having to put up with each other.

I doubt that Dominic would drop BT off a cliff or something, but I’m sure that neither of them would be happy about having to put up with one another. 

“Got it,” I breathe out, trying to calm my nerves. “I’ll try my best not to get shot.”

“That’s the spirit!” He nods, and I can hear the smile in his voice. (And I hate that it makes me feel better.) “Knock ‘em dead, cowboy.”

“Oh my god,” I nearly whine. “You’re killing me.”

——————————————————

I stand near the edge of the forest, staring out at the town. It doesn't _look_ like an IMC stronghold— everyone is dressed in work clothes and there’s no armor or weapons to be seen— but looks can be deceiving. The town seems to be built around some sort of logging building. The shuttle was likely only stopping here to refuel when Viper and I escaped. 

The large, empty space (presumably a landing area) confirms my suspicions. So this settlement probably does business with the IMC, but it isn’t occupied by any soldiers. Not an ideal situation, but not likely to ruin our plans. 

I inch forward, trying to get a better view of the people. I can see a group of kids playing in front of a house, and a nearby congregation of adults chatting. It’s late— so most of the parents have likely just left work. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad—

“And WHAT do WE have HERE?” Someone nearly shouts into my ear as they grab onto me. I’m shoved forward, and all eyes are suddenly on me.  
“You LOST boy?” An impossibly tall man grips onto my shoulders, holding me firmly in place. 

“I— I, uh...” I can’t help but stutter, glancing around wildly at the rapidly-approaching crowd. “My... uh...”

“Come on! Spit it out!” He slaps my back, causing me to stumble forward a few steps. 

“My— my shuttle crashed, an I—“

“Oh, that SOS signal we got a couple weeks ago. That must have been you,” A woman speaks up, stepping away from the crowd. The clothes she has on make her look like some sort of pre-war police officer. “You’re IMC?”

“Uh,” I take a step away from the man, eyeing him warily. “I guess you could say that.”

“I can take care of this Arthur,” She gestured to the man, and he nods and moves back. “They’ve been asking about you. The IMC, I mean. Come with me, I can get you in contact with your superiors.”

I freeze, wanting to look back, wanting to get some sort of direction from Dominic. I’ve dug myself into a hole, (maybe we’re more alike than I thought,) and now I have to find my own way out of here.  
“Yeah...” I nod. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

—————————————————————

The officer (who I’ve learned is actually part of the IMC and is stationed here to take care of outgoing shipments and possible uprisings) has brought me to a small radio tower. It’s filled to the brim with various machines— blinking lights and all. 

“They seem very interested in you. Command has been checking in every couple of days to ask if anyone has shown up. Can I know what this is about, or is it above me?”

“Classified,” I answer quickly. “I’d tell you, but, uh... I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t appreciate it.”

She nods, a vaguely disappointed look on her face. “I see. It must be important, then. Any chance it has to do with that whole mess on Typhon? Oh, well, I gues you can’t tell me.”  
She begins to reach towards the comm system, and I begin to panic.

“Wait!” I cry, reaching towards her. She steps away from the machine with a confused look on her face.  
“Uh, I should be the one who calls it in. So that they know it’s me.” I clarify.

“If you say so...” She says, staring at me like I’ve grown a second head. She sets the radio down and steps away in an exaggerated gesture. “It’s all yours.”

I grab it, before glancing at her hesitantly. “Uh, this is sort of classified, so...”

“Ah, I see,” She nods, stepping towards the door. “This is above my pay grade. I’ll just wait outside.”  
And with that, she leaves. 

I stand next to the comm system, looking down at it and feeling like a massive idiot. I really should’ve talked about this with Viper before I left. He’s probably pissed right now— angry that he doesn’t have a say in this situation. 

Okay. I’ll just have to weight my options.  
I’m definitely not going to actually call the IMC.  
The militia is less than ideal for Dominic.  
He’s not here right now to tell me about anyone he knows.  
That leaves... who?

Most of the people I know are within the Militia, and it’s not like there are many other factions that work outside of— wait. Wait! The 6-4!  
I nearly burst from excitement as the answer comes to me.

They work _alongside_ the Militia, but they don’t report directly to them!  
My hands fly across the comm system, putting in the radio frequency Commander Briggs had drilled into my head prior to attacking the Draconis.

A moment of silence once I’ve finished entering the code, then a beep and a click. Time to send a message.

“This is Jack Cooper of the SRS. I was captured by IMC soldiers, but the ship crash landed. I don’t know what planet this is, but they think I’m an IMC Pilot. I could really use some help, here. And, uh, expect a plus one. Cooper out.” Another click. 

I step back, staring down at the console.  
Now, all that’s left is to wait.

—————————————————————

“You probably want to go to the Infirmary,” Officer Jonas (who only told me her name after some questioning) leads me through the town, pointing out the different buildings and their functions. “Actually, maybe I should have brought you there first. You must have gotten hurt in the crash.”

“Yeah,” I answer absentmindedly, glancing back at the wall of trees. “That sounds good.”  
I can almost swear I see a flash of red in the darkness.

“Were you the only survivor?”

I press my lips into a thin line, pretending to think over the question. “Too early to say,” I answer vaguely. “Someone else could’ve gotten out. I don’t know.”

“I suppose there’s a chance,” She hums. “Here it is. Doctor Hope? Are you here?” She calls as we step into a cinderblock building. It looks like a typical civilian hospital— lacking the giant machines typical to Militia medbays.  
I can only see one other person— a very bored-looking nurse sitting behind a desk.

“He’s on his lunch break,” She says, gesturing behind herself. “Just missed ‘im. You can wait for him to get back.”

“There’s only one doctor here?” I ask.

“It’s a small settlement,” Officer Jonas replies. “One doctor is all they really need. Besides, most medics choose the frontlines. Not a lot will take jobs like this.”

“So this is the sort of place you’re sent if you don’t have a death wish,” The nurse sighs. “Good old TL-9. Not even good enough to get an actual name.”

“That’s where we are?” Both of them stare at me like I’m stupid, so I explain.  
“Uh— We were just supposed to pass over this planet. The, uh, nav system went out. I had no idea what planet this was.”

“Good thing you crashed. Otherwise you would’ve missed the _incredible_ scenery.” The nurse comments blandly, gesturing around us.

“Rude,” Officer Jonas chides. The nurse’s expression doesn’t change, and I get the feeling that they’ve had conversations like this before.

The sound of a bell chiming draws my attention, and I spot someone stepping in through a back door.

“Well. Sorry to cut our riveting conversation short, but it sounds like Hope is back. Ha ha. Now get out of the lobby, you’re tracking in mud.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dying 😳

“Fractured ribs, a twisted ankle... and a hell of a lot of bruising. You really got out easy, huh?”  
Dr. Hope stands in front of me, reading off of a clipboard with a cigarette perched between his lips.   
Kind of ironic, really. 

“In retrospect,” I answer with a shrug. “In the moment, it seemed a lot worse. Y’know... having just crawled out of the wreckage.”

He hums and holds my eye open with two fingers.   
The scent of smoke burns my nostrils, and I have to force myself to not shy away.   
“We’re you the only one who made it out?”

“Don’t know,” I say, scrunching my nose. “I didn’t stick around to check. Too worried the whole thing was going to blow.”

A nod, and then he pulls away and writes something down. “I wouldnt’ve stayed, either,” He chuckled. “It’s a good thing you started moving, though, and it’s pretty impressive you made it here. How’d you find this colony?”

“Chance. I just picked a direction and started walking.”

“You must be really lucky, huh?” 

“I guess you could say that.”  
Was it luck that got me this far? Was it luck that brought BT and I together? Was it luck that struck down Viper but spared me? Maybe I’m looking too far into this...  
I’ve never really been a believer in luck. I can chalk most of my accomplishments up to coincidence (if not skill,) but not luck. 

A lucky man doesn’t have this much blood on his hands.

“What’s on your mind?” The sudden voice causes me to jerk in surprise. 

“Uh,” Is all I say in response.   
Dr. Hope laughs as if I had told a joke, and places a hand on my knee.   
I watch him warily, wanting to move away, but also not wanting to make things weird. 

“This might be a little forward, but you’re welcome to stay in the infirmary while you wait for your ship to arrive. Not many people here would welcome a stranger into their hone. Much less one who works for the IMC.”

“I’ll just— Officer Jonas said I could stay at the, uh, jail. Y’know... Just in case my copilot shows up, so I can hear right away,” His hand tightens, and I begin to feel like this is some sort of interrogation. “So... uh... I appreciate the offer, but...”

“That’s good,” He finally lets go. “Just know that you’re always welcome here. It’s terribly boring, so a new face is always exciting. Especially a handsome one like yours.”

“Ha ha...” I laugh lamely. “Yeah...”

———————————————————

After making a daring escape from the hospital (aka, just walking out,) Officer Jonas leads me back to the jailhouse. The tight bandages around my ribs and ankle make it hard to walk, but I don’t complain.

“It’s not much, but I figure it’s better than sleeping on the ground,”  
‘Not much’ is a bit of an understatement. There’s a desk and two cells, both equipped with a small cot and a toilet. There’s a set of stairs directly to my right, which I assume leads to where Officer Jonas stays. “I won’t lock you in, so you don’t have to use the faculties in there. There’s a nicer bathroom upstairs. You’re probably dying to take a shower.”

“You’ve got that right,” I sigh. “This is a small building— not a lot of crime here?”

“The occasional drunken fight, but nothing too serious. Most people just mind their own business. Are you hungry?”

“Oh, uh, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Of course not. My mom keeps telling me I need to interact with people more. She’ll be over the moon when I tell her I’m actually having dinner with someone.”

I laugh, following her up the stairs. “I know how that feels. My parents make me send letters about everything that—“  
Oh my god. How have I completely forgotten about my family? The guilt makes me feel like I’m about to throw up.

They probably think I’m dead...  
Left on some alien planet to rot. I wonder who broke the news. I can’t contact them, though. At least, not until I make it off this planet. It’s safer for all of us if I just lay low.

“Are you okay?” Officer Jonas’ voice breaks me out of my thoughts. She stands in front of me, a distinctly worried expression on her face. 

“Yeah,” I say, shaking my head. “Just— just thinking about something.”   
She looks at me like she wants to say something, but just turns around instead. 

I glance around the upper floor as I step away from the stairs. It seems like she’s made something of an apartment out of the empty space. There’s a makeshift kitchen against on wall, and a bed against the other.   
The room itself is fairly small, and the remaining space is taken up by a small table.

“Please, take a seat,” She gestures towards the table. “This won’t take long. I suppose soup would be fine? I know you must be starving, but it’s all I have at the moment.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” I quickly assure her. “I’m intruding enough as is, soup is fine. Better than IMC rations, at least.”

She snorts, nodding along in agreement. “The worst food in the universe. I’m glad this planet is suitable for gardening. Nothing beats fresh produce when you’ve been raised on freeze-dried meals.”   
There’s a hint of bitterness in her tone, but it’s dull. Like she’s revisiting an old wound. 

Eventually, we’re sitting across from each other, sipping chicken noodle soup. (Where’d the chicken come from? Maybe it was imported? Maybe it’s not chicken at all...)

“It’s good,” I manage to say between mouthfuls.   
She smiles and shakes her head, but doesn’t argue with me. 

It’s getting dark out, and the room is lit only by a tall lamp in a corner. The sun’s setting and—

I choke on the soup, coughing violently. “Shit—“ I gasp. “‘M fine,” I say as she begins to stand up.   
I take a moment to catch my breath, staring out the window. “I— I left something outside,” I say, turning towards Officer Jonas. “I need to get it.”

“Ah...” Her face scrunches, and I can see the pity in her expression. “You see, this settlement has a strict curfew, and I’m the one that’s supposed to enforce it. It wouldn’t be a good example...”

I bite my lip, staring down at the now-empty bowl. I want to let her know that Viper’s still out there, but I _did_ make a point is saying that I don’t know about any other survivors.   
“I understand.” I sigh. 

“Sorry. Hopefully it can wait until morning.”

—————————————————————

When my eyes finally open, I feel like I’ve been in a month-long coma. I weight the idea of not getting up, but the sun is shining directly in my eye and I really shouldn’t waste any more time. 

“I was worried you would never get up,” Officer Jonas is sitting at her desk, watching me while taking sips from a mug. “I nearly called in Dr. Hope because I worried you died.”

I snort, sitting up. “What time is it?”

“Two pm,” She answers. “I thought you would be up earlier, considering how worried you were about that thing you left outside.”

“Oh crap—“ I hiss. “I totally forgot, I—“

“Don’t worry about it. You seemed stressed about it, so I went to take a look while you were asleep,” Her expression hasn’t changed, but I can still feel my blood turn cold. She wouldn’t be talking about this if she hadn’t found something. “This... some _thing_ turned out to be some _one_. And I must say, he was not happy to be found.”

“I—“ My mouth feels dry, and I can hear my heart pounding in my chest. “I didn’t—“

She raises a hand up before I can finish, not breaking eye contact as she takes a slow sip from her mug.   
“He isn’t dead, if that’s what you’re worried about. Sedated, but still breathing. He put up quite the fight,” She puts the mug down then stands up, moving closer.   
“I have the feeling this isn’t a coincidence, so I am only going to ask you once: Why did you lie about not knowing any other survivors?”

There’s a pregnant pause as we stare at each other. Her arms are crossed against her chest, but she doesn’t exactly look _angry_. There’s not a lot I can do here... lying will just put me into a worse situation. But then again, telling the truth isn’t a desirable option, either. 

“We... weren’t sure about this place,” I finally admit. “It was a gamble we weren’t willing to go all in on. I was going to see if it was worth it, and he was going to stay behind in case things went south. Our mission needs to be completed. We couldn’t afford to fail.”

She just... watches me for a moment. Her expression is unreadable, and I have no idea if she believes me or not. 

“Understandable,” She says finally, and I allow myself to relax slightly. “But still suspicious. I expect this to be our last talk like this. Now, I’m sure you’d like to regroup with your... partner. Follow me.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave me SUCH A HARD TIME!! But I still wanted to post it cause I love you guys :)

The first thing I notice when I step into the hospital is the smell— a mix of disinfectant and bleach so strong it nearly burns my nose.  
The source is likely the flight suits laid out neatly on a table. They must’ve been cleaned— they don’t look nearly as disgusting as before.

The second thing I notice is the muffled yelling coming from one of the rooms. It’s clearly Dominic’s voice, and the creative curses tell me he’s not happy.

“The sedative wore off,” Officer Jonas says, exhaustion and annoyance evident in her tone. “I had to get Arthur to hold onto him. Maybe you can talk some sense into your partner?”

“I can certainly try,” I mutter.   
I place my hand on the doorknob, before opening it hesitantly. 

The sight that greets me is almost comical— an angry blond man (who I assume must be a (finally) unmasked Viper) is being held up from behind like a child throwing a tantrum. 

There’s a moment of silence as we make eye contact, and the fear in his eyes is alarming.  
“No!” He yells, going into another fit. “Fuck! No, no, no!” His voice sounds strange without his helmet— lacking the mechanical aspect that I had gotten used to.

When his frenzied licking knocks over an IV stand, I finally decide to step in.   
“Jesus— Dominic! It’s alright!”  
After another minute of struggling, he finally goes limp. His eyes are rolling wildly in his skull, looking everywhere but at me.

“You’re safe here, you don’t have to fight,” I move towards him slowly, watching the rapid rise and fall of his chest. He looks like a rabid animal— ready to lash out if I get too close.   
I’m almost disappointed that this is how I finally get to see his face.

Dominic makes a low sort of whine, like he’s in pain, before nodding.   
Arthur slowly sets him down, and takes a step back. I place a hand on his shoulder when he starts to sway (I think this whole exchange has taken a lot out of him.)

He refuses to look at me, but I take the chance to finally look at him.   
He’s a couple inches taller than me (although, this I already knew,) with a dirty mess of blond hair framing his face. The scars that I’ve caught glimpses of before run up the side of his face, cutting deeply into freckled (!!) skin. The newest-looking one cuts across his nose (which looks like it had been previously broken, but never healed right.) Another cuts through a brown eye. 

“You look like shit,” I mutter without truly meaning to. His lips press together tightly, but I can see a corner of his mouth turn up slightly.  
It’s not much, but it’s something.   
“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? It’s been a rough re-introduction to civilization.”

——————————————

Once Officer Jonas and I have dragged Dominic back to the police station and set him off to take a shower, I collapse into one of the chairs.

“Need a drink?” She asks, pulling a bottle of Scotch out of a cabinet. 

“No...” I sigh. “I really shouldn’t. We’ll have to regroup, and I’m going to need all my wits about me.”

“Anticipating a fight?” She pours herself a drink before sitting across from me.

“Not exactly. Just a long conversation that’s been coming for a while.”

She hums, nodding along. “Seems like you have a loose cannon of sorts. He certainly didn’t hesitate to attack me.”

I scrunch my nose at the reminder. “Yeah... sorry about that. Probably should’ve talked the plan over better.”   
I pause, noticing that the noises from the bathroom have stopped. 

“Hmm. Speak of the devil. I’ll just let you take care of him,” She stands up, patting my shoulder as she passes me. “I don’t exactly want a repeat of this morning. Good luck.”  
And with that, she leaves.

Alone with my thoughts, I try to plan my next move. I’ll have to say _something_ about the message I sent to the 6-4, but I’ll also have to address the elephant in the room— his helmet, or lack thereof. It’ll obviously be a sore spot for him (if he even allows me to bring it up at all,) so I’ll have to tread lightly.

Ugh. I’m way out of my element. Things were so much simpler when he just called me an idiot and hid away in his tent.

————————————————

“I really don’t know what you expect me to say,” Dominic’s voice is soft, and he sits across from me with his arm clutched against his chest. “You just _left_ me to go hang out with your new friend while I got drugged and kidnapped.”

“You attacked her,” I sigh. He shifts in his seat and looks away from me (and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he looks guilty.) “But— just listen, okay? I sent out an SOS signal to some people I trust. They’re not Militia, but they’re close.”

He glances at me, his eyes widening slightly.   
“Who are they?” He mutters.

“The 6-4,” I answer, lowering my voice to avoid being heard. “They’re mercenaries, but they aren’t the type to sell out. Not like the uh... you know what I mean.”

“Like the Apex Predators,” He says, making a strange face like just saying the name causes him pain.   
It’s kind of strange seeing him react at all. For some reason, I had expected him to be a brick wall when it came to emotions. 

Looking at him now, it’s kind of unnerving just how... _open_ he is. His eyes are wide, and his emotions are clearly present on his face. I guess that living behind a helmet for so long left him with little reason to learn how to keep a straight face.

“Were they—“ He pauses and looks away. “Were they with the Militia fleet? When you were attacking the Draconis?”  
I can tell what he really means— ‘Did I try to blow them out of the sky?’

“They were,” His eye twitches. “But I don’t think your paths crossed. They’re still alive. At least, I think they are...” I trail off.   
I’m fairly certain they made it out alive... I _really hope_ they made it out alive...

“Your confidence makes me feel so much better,” He drawls, slumping down further in his chair. “But then what? We get picked up by your merc friends and then hang out with them until we die? Unless they’re blind, they’ll recognize my gear. Even if I didn’t try to blow them out of the sky, they won’t be happy to see me.”

“You’re keeping your gear?” I ask, before immediately realizing how stupid the question is.

His mouth curls into a kind of grimace. “I mean, yeah? It’s not like I’m— proud of what I did, or something, but I’ve had that gear for a good chunk of my life. I’m not about to toss it.”

“Sentimental?” I ask. It’s not like I can blame him, though. I feel the same way about Lastimosa’s gear. Well, my gear now, I guess.

“Something like that.”

————————————————

“Did you lie about getting the comm system fixed?”   
Droz’s annoyed voice pulls Davis’ attention away from the small handheld game he was focused on. 

“Uhh... no? Why, is it still not working?” 

“Kinda? Ugh, just listen to it!”  
Davis walks over, the static coming from the comma almost unbearably loud. “Something’s coming through, it’s just...”

The snippets of a message were hard to pick out, but they were definitely there. Davis thinks it sounds like some sort of SOS, but the few words could honestly be anything. 

“Okay, there’s ‘Jack’, ‘SRS’, ‘Pilot,’ and ‘plus one,’” Droz lists off the words that could be made out of the static, counting them on his hand.   
“We’ve also got the coordinates from where the message was sent.”

“Should we check it out?” Davis asks, sounding way too excited. “It could be fun! We’ll solve the mystery!”

“You do realize we could be walking straight into a trap?” Droz sighs. He usually ends up as the killjoy. It’s not that he _likes_ going against Davis’ plans, it’s just that they tend to be either dangerous or stupid. This one seems to be the perfect blend of both. 

“That’s the fun of it! I’ve been itchin’ for a fight, y’know,” Davis punches the other Pilot in the arm playfully. “We don’t have to commit to it, let’s just check it out!”

“I don’t know...”

“Please..?” Davis draws the word out, clasping his hands together under his chin. 

Droz stares at him for a moment, crossing his arms. “Fine...” He says finally. “But we’re going to make it quick. Where did the coordinates lead to?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a whole other story and twelve chapters, Viper finally has a face! You can just ignore it if you like your viper better lol. What do you guys think viper looks like? (Also, yes, I know that freckles tend to get lighter as a person ages, but you can pry freckled viper out of my cold, dead hands.)  
> Ugh, slow burn is killing me!!! These guys are gonna kiss soon, but not soon enough!
> 
> Anyways bye guys ily ;)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Viper is like that kid who doesn’t know how to handle his emotions so he just bullies the person he likes lmao

“Do you have a family, Cooper?”  
Dominic’s sudden question draws my attention. 

The two of us are sitting on the steps of the police station, eating dinner. (He didn’t want to eat with Officer Jonas. He won’t admit it, but I think he still feels bad about trying to kill her.)

“Why are you asking?” I glance over at him, holding a hand up in front of my mouth.

“I dunno,” He mutters (like a liar, (we both know that he has a reason)) drawing random patterns in the dirt with his foot.   
He doesn’t elaborate, but I can tell he wants to. 

In the silence, I take in the details of his face.   
His shower has left him looking less like a living corpse, and more like an actual person. The dark bags under his eyes haven’t left (although, I’m starting to think they’re just a part of his face, and not a sign of exhaustion.)

“I do,” I finally answer. “My sister and my parents. My brother-in-law too, I guess. Hmm. Is it mean to phrase it like that?”

He ducks his head, and I can see a small smile on his face. “Yeah, kinda. But I won’t tell anyone you said it.” We make eye contact, but he almost immediately looks away. 

“I— uh,” He coughs then rubs a hand over his mouth. “I have two sisters and, uh, a brother,”   
He sounds unsure of himself, like he doesn’t know if he should be telling me this. “And my mom.”

“Are you still close with them?” I ask.   
The way he cringes tells me that I’ve overstepped a boundary. “Oh, sorry, I—“

“No, it’s fine,” He sighs. “You didn’t know. But... I’m not. They didn’t like my, uh... choice in career,” He laughs weakly. “Hmm. Mia was the most upset, I think. She’s my oldest sister— still younger than me, though. I think she... blamed herself, somehow. Like she could’ve talked me out of it or something.”

Dominic pulls in a shaky breath, his hand clenching in his lap. “It eats at you, y’know? I was supposed to be her role model, and I turned out like—“ He gestures towards himself, his movements jerky. “This.”

Slowly, I reach over and place a hand on his back, wanting to provide some sort of comfort. It might just be my imagination, but I think I can feel him leaning into my touch. 

He rubs his eyes and sniffs, then glancing down at his food.   
“It’s cold now.” Is all he says before standing up and walking inside.

——————————————

The police station is almost painfully quiet, now. Officer Jonas went upstairs long ago and Dominic is sound asleep in the cell next to mine.   
He probably doesn’t realize just how much information he’s given me.

The name ‘Mia Taylor’ isn’t new to me— I’ve actually _met_ her. She’s an SRS Pilot, and has been within the Militia as long as I have.   
I’ve heard her talk about her past before, and she _had_ mentioned having an older brother. (She always claimed he was dead, though. I wonder if she’s still mad about Dominic joining the IMC, or if she knows about what he’s been up to lately.)

I also know the names of his other siblings— Oskar and Evangeline. I can’t bring them up, though. He’s be creeped out if I inexplicably knew the names of his siblings. 

I’ve learned an unfortunate amount about his mother, too. Mia and her exchanged messages often, and the communications officer is a notorious gossip. (It’s almost impossible to keep personal secrets within the Militia. Gossip spreads fast when people have nothing better to do.)  
Last I heard, their mom had come down with some kind of sickness and Mia was sending money.  
People left her alone when that news came out. 

I sigh heavily and roll onto my side.   
Some part of me wants to tell him, but another part knows that he’d hate being pitied. But then again, he’ll have to find out _sometime._ Or... actually, there’s a pretty good chance he’ll never know. (The odds are stacked heavily against him. Commander Briggs would have to ignore the price on his head, and Mia would have to not kill him on sight. Neither of those sound likely.)

That brings up yet another problem— What am I going to say to Briggs? How could I spin this in a way that doesn’t make me look completely insane? (Or like a traitor?)   
Maybe I could convince Dominic to give the Militia a chance... It would take a lot of bargaining and bribing, but it’d probably be his best bet for survival. 

Having another talented pilot would do the Militia well. Not many people sign up for pilot training, and even fewer make it out alive. (On account of the ridiculously high mortality rate.) We need all the manpower we can get— especially now that we’re in the homestretch of this war. 

A quiet mumbling pulls me out of my thoughts. I look back over my shoulder, peering through the darkness at where Dominic is sleeping. My eyes have adjusted to the dark, so I can make out his form. He’s curled up with his back to me, moving every once and a while and muttering. 

I hear something that sounds suspiciously like my name (although, it was really just “coo,”) accompanied by a violent jerk.   
I can’t help but wonder what he’s dreaming about. As I learn more and more about him, he seems to become more and more of an enigma.   
An IMC-Pilot-turned-mercenary who ran away from home at 18. I have the feeling that money wasn’t his sole driving factor.

A low groan comes from him, and I see his body tense up before slowly relaxing.   
Hmm. Wonder what that was about.

—————————————

“Your partner is especially shy today,” Officer Jonas says, watching me over her cup of coffee.   
She’s likely referring to the fact that Dominic grabbed only a coffee and a granola bar before asking to be left alone and fleeing. 

“He can be...” I pause, trying to think of the right word. “Strange, sometimes. He feels bad, I think.”

She hums, raising her eyebrows. “Well, I _know_ that, but I think this is different,”   
I glance at her curiously, silently asking her to elaborate. “ _You_ were the one he wouldn’t look at. Did he try to kill you, too?”

I scrunch my nose, looking down at my own cup.   
“Not that I know of...”   
He tends to get cagey after telling me about himself... is this any different? Was telling me about his family _that_ important to him?   
Ugh... that just makes me sound like an asshole.

“I’ll just... give him some time,” I sniff.   
That’s all I can really do, right? He only barely seems to stand my company when he’s in a good mood, this feels like I’d be pushing my luck.   
But then again, another part of me wants to see if he’s okay. The same part that pities a wanted war criminal. The part of me that I _really_ need to get under control. 

“You’re overthinking the problem again,” Officer Jonas says, pulling me out of my downward spiral. She’s leaning against the kitchen counter, watching me with an amused expression.   
“The two of you are friends, right?” Before I have the chance to argue, she raises a hand to stop me. “Just sit down and talk with him. No need to make things unnecessarily complicated. Especially when you have such an important task to complete.”

I sigh, resting my head in my hand. “When I took this mission I didn’t expect having to have a heart-to-heart conversation with my goddamn copilot,” We both chuckle, but the thought of having to deal with Dominic makes me nervous.   
He doesn’t seem to appreciate my attempts to get to know him better, but he continues to tell me about his personal life and past.   
It’s a mean thing to say, but I honestly think he’s never had a real friend before. 

“What’s the worst that could happen? Apart from him trying to murder you, of course.”

“Very funny,” I grumble as I stand up. “I’ll call for you if something happens and I need to be saved.”

“I’ll be listening.” She promises, a frustratingly patronizing look on her face.

I find Dominic sitting on the steps, cup of coffe clutched protectively to his chest. (I’m not surprised this is where he chose to hide. It’s not like there are plenty of places for him to go.)  
He doesn’t look at me, that part isn’t surprising, but what _is_ surprising is how red his face is.   
His blush (and I _know_ that he’s blushing, since he hasn’t been in the sun long enough to get a sun burn,) colors most of his face, as well as the tips of his ears. I hate that it suits him.

“What do you want,” He mumbles so quickly that the whole thing sounds like one word.   
I just watch him for a moment, despite knowing that it’ll just annoy him.   
He’s bouncing one of his knees— a nervous tic, I think. What’s left of his left arm twitches every once in a while, like he’s forgotten it’s gone.

“Are you okay?” I finally ask. The bouncing stops, and he glances at me.

“Why are you asking?” His eyebrows are furrowed, and he sounds so defensive that it’s almost funny.

“‘Cause you’re acting weird,” I answer. He huffs and leans away like I’ve offended him. “You’ve been avoiding me since last night. Y’know, you don’t have to get so hostile after telling me about yourself.”

“M’not being weird,” He mutters, setting his cup down. “ _You’re_ being weird with this ‘let’s be friends’ fucking bullshit...” His little tirade devolves into unintelligible grumbling. 

“Do you not want to be my friend?” I ask, trying to keep the amusement out of my tone.

Dominic scoffs, like it’s a stupid question.   
“No? No! I hate you!” He sounds unsure of himself at first, but quickly gains his resolve. “I’d still kill you if I got the chance.”   
That last part is muttered, like he doesn’t want me to hear it. And maybe he doesn’t— maybe he’s just trying to convince himself. 

“Would you?” I push back.

“You’re making it a tempting option.” He answers vaguely.  
Huh. It’s better than a straight ‘yes,’ I suppose. He certainly enjoys dodging questions.

“I think you’re lying.” I say, sitting up straighter.

He scoffs, and from the rise and fall of his head, I can tell that he’s rolling his eyes.   
“Yeah?” He glances up, a grin on his face. (The expression suits him well. My eyes seem to be drawn to his mouth— where a scar has caused his smile to turn out lopsided.) “And what makes you think that, Bandit?”

“You were saying my name in your sleep,” I retort. It’s a bit of a gamble (after all, he could’ve just been having a dream about pigeons or something,) but I figure he has no way of proving me wrong. “You don’t have dreams about people you hate. At least, I don’t. Do you? My sister used to be obsessed with dream theory and stuff, but— You look really pale, are you okay?”

The shit-eating grin has left his face, replaced with something that looks more akin to horror.   
“You...” His voice cracks slightly. “You were awake?”  
He doesn’t wait for me to answer, instead standing up slowly. He shuffles back a few steps and ends up knocking over his cup. He doesn’t seem to notice. 

“That— that doesn’t mean _anything._ ” He stutters, the blush returning full-force. “You need to learn how to mind your own business.”  
He points an accusatory finger at me before fleeing back into the station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shameless plugs:  
> Insta: Harpyseagull   
> Tumblr: alligade


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy fuck!

Mia Taylor wouldn’t call herself cruel, but she was stern.  
She kept a tight schedule and made sure her subordinates stayed in line. She could not stand anything less than perfection.  
She didn’t have many friends, but she could live with that. 

Fewer friends meant fewer distractions— that was what she had always been told.  
Her only true friend was her mother, who seemed to see herself in Mia and favored her greatly. As a child, she had loved the attention. Now it seemed almost unbearable. Oskar has envied her. _He_ saw her as a usurper. 

Hmm. She didn’t like to think about _Him._  
_He_ was the one who taught her how to fight. Who instilled the love of combat.  
She had broken His nose, once, but He had just smiled at her with the blood running down his face. Her hatred likes to twist that memory— to imagine all the would’ve been saved had she aimed for his temple. 

Mia has passed down her knowledge to Oskar and Evangeline as well. (She would not always be there to protect them. And the other children on X1V-48 were even meaner than the native inhabitants.)  
Evangeline was the only one who never took to violence. 

She had always been the black sheep of the family— with blue eyes and brown hair that made her look remarkably like their father. (Who none of the younger ones _really_ knew. He always seemed to come when none of them were home. But _He_ would always say that Evangeline looked like him. _He_ was the only one who really knew their father.)  
She had dreams of beauty and passion, instead of those about bloodshed and power. When she was old enough, she ran away and joined some mid-rim ballet school. 

Mia occasionally sent letters to her, but none of them ever received a response. 

Oskar had, unfortunately, been doomed from the start. He was born only a year before _He_ left, and had essentially been raised by his two older sisters.  
Mia has tried her best, but he looked exactly like _Him._ she had attempted to teach him to fight, but he was weak. The runt of the litter. (Didn’t stop him from picking fights he couldn’t finish.)

He had stayed with their mother after everyone else had left, tending to her in her declining state. Life had not treated her well— they all knew that.  
Mia secretly hoped that her mother would just... move on. Oskar didn’t deserve to stay on that pathetic excuse for a planet.

She still sends money to them, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure.  
Oskar is the only one she still talks with. Fewer friends meant fewer distractions.

——————————————

Having to help subdue a drunk lumberjack is _not_ how I expected to spend my evening.  
A fight had started in the street, and Arthur wasn’t around to just pick up one of the men. 

Both Officer Jonas and I had to use our combined weight to keep one of them down, and we have to work together to drag them into the cells.  
Looks like Dominic and I have lost our beds. 

“Well... you could always stay at the hospital,” Officer Jonas says, seemingly reading my mind. “They don’t have many beds, but...”

I would rather sleep _anywhere else,_ but it seems like I don’t exactly have a choice.  
“Yeah...” I sigh. “I’ll just... let my partner know.”

“Why does a _hospital_ only have _one fucking bed?!_ ” Dominic nearly shouts, gesturing angrily at the offending cot. 

The nurse simply blinks, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “This is a small outpost, _sir._ You might not’ve noticed, but we don’t have a lotta people here. You’ll just have to share.”

“I—“ He glances between her and I, a light blush appearing on his face. “Hmph.”

“It’s not going to be _that_ bad,” I tell him, trying to stay optimistic. “It’ll just be a couple of nights.”

Okay, turns out I was wrong. It really is that bad. Dominic has claimed the hospital bed for himself, and I’m left on the floor with a blanket and a pillow. It’s not the worst place I’ve slept, but it’s certainly not comfortable. 

I roll onto my back, trying to find a spot that I can stand sleeping in. Ugh. I’ve gotten used to sleeping on an actual bed.  
With a sigh and a huff, I shift again. 

“‘M trying to sleep,” His quiet voice breaks the silence. “Shut up.”

“You try sleeping in the floor.” I retort, glaring up at him. (Even though I know he can’t see me.)

A pause, then the bed creaks and his head pokes out over the side.  
He stares at me for a moment before sighing and laying back down.  
“There’s space up here. Get in before I change my mind.”

Despite knowing that I should _probably_ refuse his offer, the chance to sleep in a bed is too good to pass up.  
I climb into the small space next to him, pulling my blanket along. We end up having to press our backs together (and I’m surprised at just how _cold_ he is. It feels like he’s intentionally trying to steal my body heat in some vague attempt at payback.)

“Thanks.” I eventually mutter.  
He doesn’t say anything in response.

——————————————

“You know I didn’t want to do it,” Dominic’s voice is soft and dreamlike. His hands roam over my face, gentle despite the horrible things they’ve done. “I was stuck with them. I didn’t have a choice.”

I hum as the pad of a thumb passes over my closed eye. I don’t know if I’m stupid or crazy to trust him like this. Maybe I should ask BT to do another brain scan. Make sure I i don’t have a concussion.  
“The casualties—“

“Don’t matter now,” I can tell he’s smiling. Why is he smiling? “They’re just... an unfortunate byproduct. I regret that they died, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.”  
His hand moves in order to run his fingers through my hair. 

I tilt my head into his hand and hear him chuckle— a low sound that seems to reverberate within his chest.  
“Don’t you have something to do?” I ask, only trying to change the subject. 

“Just some civvie job Briggs gave me,” He answers, annoyance evident in his voice. “But it can wait. We’ve got all the time in the world, don’t we, son?” 

I scrunch my nose at the old taunt. That fight feels so far away, now. An old wound that only occasionally stings.  
“Don’t blame me when you get in trouble. You know she’ll be mad if you don’t—“

I cut myself off as I open my eyes, the sight in front of me causing me to freeze. Viper— not Dominic— sits in front of me, bathed in a hellish red light. His flightsuit has been replaced with that of a Militia pilot’s, but the blood-red visor of his helmet is exactly the same. 

“What’s wrong, kid?” His voice seems to drown out all other noises, and the only thing I can keep my eyes on is the gun he has pressed against my chest. (Although, I can still feel a hand running through my hair.) “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

My hands are shaking from the adrenaline coursing through my veins, and my fist clenched as I see his finger tighten on the trigger.  
In a moment of desperation, I swing my fist at his face and feel a satisfying crunch as my hand connects with his—

“Ow shit! What the fuck!”  
The sudden shouting, paired with a spray of some sort of liquid, wakes me up.  
Dominic sits in front of me, a hand clasped over his nose and blood dripping through his fingers. 

My panic quickly turns to guilt, and I sit up hurriedly.  
“Shit, Dominic, are you okay? Oh my god, I’m so sorry—“ I gently pry his hand away, cupping his head and tilting it upwards.

“It’s broken, innit?” He gasps, clutching onto my arm. “You got me good— fuck! That’s what I get for waking you up, huh?” He chuckles, even though I have _no idea how he finds any of this funny and oh god how does his nose have this much blood in it?_

“What were you even _doing?_ ” I ask, trying to distract myself. 

“You were having a nightmare or something,” He answers, his voice sounding weird and nasally. “You were kicking me and I woke up.”

I sigh, shaking my head. “Sorry about that, too.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” He blinks slowly, his gaze moving between my hand and my face. “Do you, uh... remember what it was about?”

“You were in it,” I eventually answer. It’s amusing how that causes him to perk up. “You pointed a gun at me,” I continue, deciding to ignore whatever it was that came before. “That’s why I freaked out when I woke up and saw you staring down at me like a creep.”

“Oh,” He says, having the audacity to look embarrassed. “Sorry about that.”

“Are you seriously apologizing for something you did in my dream?”

——————————————

It becomes sort of a ritual from then on. (The sharing the same bed thing. Not breaking each other’s noses.) I lay on the ground for a couple of minutes before Dominic invites me into the cot.

I’m... honestly not sure if this _means_ anything, though. It feels like we’ve crossed some sort of invisible line. The point of no return, so to speak.  
Seems like he’s gotten out of his weird mood, too. (I’m not sure if he’s forgiven me, or if he just forgot to be upset.) 

Things seem like they’ve taken a turn for the better. Dominic has finally apologized to Officer Jonas, and the three of us have been sharing drinks in the police stations. 

The two of them get along remarkably well, I’ve found out.  
They share a common military background. (Which they’ve found out from the very vague information they’re both willing to provide.)  
He’s smiling the whole time, and it makes me feel warm. (For some reason.)

We both must’ve had a little too much to drink— because he’s nearly skipping on the walk back to the hospital and I can’t stop thinking about holding his hand. 

When we reach the cot, he decides to opt out of the theatrics and simply pulls me into the bed alongside himself.  
Once I’ve slipped in next to him, he pulls the thin sheets over our heads like we’re kids at a slumber party. 

“Look,” He giggles— actually _fucking_ giggled— and grabs onto one of my hands.  
I can only watch in (horror? Intrigue?) as he guides it under his shirt to a spot just below his ribs. There’s a long ridge of raised skin— some sort of scar?

“That’s from you,” He says, his eyes half-lidded and lazy. “Your stupid Spitfire! God, what a way to go.”

“Sorry,” I mutter unthinkingly, too focused on the feeling of our skin touching. His grip on my wrist loosens as I trail my hand across his torso, taking in all of the new and old wounds. “What do you..?”

I stop as he moves his hand to the side of my face. It’s too familiar— it’s way too familiar, but I can’t find it in myself to push him away. 

“Jack,” He whispers, trailing a thumb across my cheek. “God, I wish I could hate you. It’d make everything so much easier.”

“You’re drunk,” I sigh. My hand moves to the small of his back, and I can feel how warm he is now.

“Maybe,” He scoots even closer to me. (Our noses are nearly touching, and I can still smell the alcohol on his breath.) “You are, too. Can I kiss you? I’ve been wanting to ever since we got to this shithole colony.”

It’s not the request that surprises me— it’s the honesty. I should’ve known that the only way to get clear information from him is to get him drunk. But then again, I’m not exactly sober, either. (And I’m way too tired to lie to myself. I _really want to make out with the guy that tried to kill me._ )

I eventually nod, and the smile that appears on his face only cements my decision.  
He moves towards me painfully slow, but eventually his lips are pressed against mine. 

It starts off innocently enough, with his fingers carding through my hair and my arms wrapped around his midsection. But it seems that my willingness encourages him, as soon he begins to push towards me.  
His hand cradles the back of my neck and our noses get smushed between our faces. 

It’s quite possibly the worst kiss I’ve ever had. His lips are chapped, his breath stinks, and he tastes like he’s been eating nothing but rotting meat.  
And yet, I still find myself wanting more. Wanting whatever it is he’s willing to give me.

When he finally pulls away, there’s an obscene line of spit connecting our mouths. (I’m my haste to wipe it away, I accidentally knock him on the chin. He doesn’t seem to notice.)

“‘M tired.” He says after a moment of silence.  
I can recognize this as the invitation it is, and pull myself closer. 

With the two of us pressed flush against one another, I fall into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Viper can have a little a romance...... as a treat....


	16. Chapter 16

As I slowly wake up, I become more and more certain that my head has been cracked open with a rock.  
I can hardly stand to even open my eyes, since the bright sunlight only worsens the pain.

There’s also a heavy weight settled on top of me, pushing me face-down into the cot.   
From the way the mass _breathes,_ I can tell that it’s Dominic.

That revelation clears all the fog from my head immediately. Dominic— the man who kissed me, and who I kissed back, and who is currently laying on top of me and _oh my god why is he so heavy?_  
Will he remember? My own memories are fuzzy, but I still know what happened.

A part of me knows that he’ll probably react with embarrassment (if not outright hostility,) and will avoid me for a couple of days. But I really don’t want him to. But what am I supposed to say?  
‘Hey, I know you’re humiliated after making out with me, but I liked it and maybe we could do it again?’

Ugh. I need to stop overthinking this. I’ll sit him down and we’ll talk about it. I’m not going to let him run off and hide in his corner. 

There’s a hitch in Dominic’s steady breathing, followed by a low hum as he grabs onto my shirt.  
Shit. It’s like he’s trying to be as weirdly endearing as possible. 

Endearing? I don’t even know if a word like that should be used in a man like him. He’d probably choke me to death if I called him it out loud.  
Charming, maybe? I don’t know.

Oh. But I do have a whole new mess of issues more important than an adjective. Because I’ve done the one thing that any sane person would advise me against— I’ve gotten personally involved.   
This makes everything so much more complicated. Now I can’t deny it when Briggs asks me if I have a personal stake in Dominic’s integration. (Which I still have yet to discuss with him.)

I’ve really dug myself into a hole, here.   
Maybe he really is rubbing off on me. 

A low groan comes from the man in question, followed by a slurred “huh?” when his head bumps against mine.

“You awake?” I grunt, reaching back to pat him.

“Shit— what?” He seems to be totally unaware of his surroundings, as he shoves a bony elbow straight into my back.   
I hiss and slap at him, attempting to get him to move.

“Can you get off?” I huff, pushing myself up onto my elbows. (Struggling to, really.)  
He sputters for a moment before clambering off, moving to his side of the cot as I get up.

“I—I...” His blush darkens as I make eye contact with him. 

“Don’t apologize,” I smile weakly, allowing myself knee to press against his. (He stares down at the touching skin with a mix of terror and intrigue, but doesn’t move away.)  
“So. The big question. What do you remember from last night?”

He swallows, a look of panic appearing on his face.  
“We went and had drinks with Jonas,” He pauses, waiting until I nod encouragingly. “And... oh god, don’t tell me I attacked her again...”

“You didn’t,” I assure him. “But that’s all you remember?”

“Everything else is just... distorted,” He fidgets, wrapping his arm around himself. “I have the feeling you’re going to tell me what happened whether I want to hear it or not...”

“It was nothing... _bad,_ if that’s what you’re worried about,” I say, watching as his shoulders lower slightly.   
“I’m just going to say what happened and we’re not going to dance around it. We got drunk and then made out. There.”

All he does is stare at me stupidly for what feels like an eternity. 

“What..?” He says, and his voice is so quiet that I’m almost sure I imagined it.   
When I fail to respond, he begins to scoot away from me, as if I’m about to attack him. “I don’t... I didn’t...”

“No, you’re not running,” I reach forward, grabbing onto his arm. “We’re going to sit here and talk about it, okay?”

“You’re full of shit.” He suddenly bares his teeth, trying to pull away. “You’re fucking lying and you’re trying to get in my head!”  
This is going downhill quickly— once he sinks his teeth into an idea, it’s hard to get him to let go.

“Want me to prove it?”  
Before he can answer, I surge forward with my free hand, jabbing a finger at where I know the scar is.  
“From my Spitfire. You showed it to me.”

“Lucky guess.” He seethes.

“You know it’s not.”

He glares at me, opening and closing his hand.   
“It. Meant. _Nothing._ ” He hisses, pulling his arm away. “You’re trying time get in my head. That’s what you Militia fucks do, right? You make people think they need you...”

He backs away from me, slipping off of the cot.   
“You’re trying to _fucking_ declaw me. I’m Viper! I’m an Apex Predator! I’m not the fucking pushover you’re trying to make me!”

“No, you’re not,” I argue, trying to stay calm.   
I follow him off the cot, making sure that I keep my distance. (He’s backing himself into a corner, and I don’t want to be close when he lashes out.)   
“You’re a dead man walking who _needs my help._ You’re not going to survive on your own. _They are going to kill you, Dominic. I’m trying to help you!”_

“You’re trying to fucking ruin me!” He screams, his eyes wide. (He’s beginning to scare me— he looks like an injured wild animal.)   
“And I’m not going to just sit back and watch the last 13 years of my life go to waste!” His voice cracks halfway through, and he quickly seems to lose his resolve. 

“I spent... _13 years_ working for Blisk,” He whimpers, only a husk of what he was a few seconds ago. “And what do I have to show for it? A missing arm and an estranged family. I’m just a goddamn invalid who ruins everything he touches.”

In that moment, I can’t help but pity him. He looks so broken and tired— a man who has been in this war for far too long. 

This isn’t the man I fought on the Draconis— Viper has finally died.

“Not everything,” I say softly. “You kept a Northstar operational long past it’s expiration date. You helped raise your siblings, you kept BT safe, and you’re the reason I’m not rotting in some IMC jail cell. People change for the better, Dominic. You’re living proof of that.”

There’s a pause as we both stare at each other. He sways side to side, unsteady.

“I know that... you don’t view the Militia in a positive light, but they’re your best chance at survival. I would be honored to have you by my side. I _want_ is to be together after this. I _want_ to see all those weird hole-in-the-wall places you told me about. I _want_ to watch fucking Top Gun with you. I’d miss not seeing your stupid face everywhere.”

Dominic blinks at me, looking thoroughly stunned and confused. “You... do..?”  
When I nod, he lets out an airy sort of chuckle.   
“That’s probably the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.” He sniffs, rubbing his eyes. 

“I really mean it, too,” I say, taking a tentative step closer. “I don’t regret what happened last night, but what comes next is entirely up to you.”

A light blush graces his face, and he ducks his head down. “You wouldn’t want to... _be_ with me... it’d look bad...”

“And a drunk makeout session looks better?”

“I don’t know,” He sighs. “I’m not good with relationships.”

I want to say ‘clearly,’ but I hold my tongue.  
“Just... tell me what your heart is saying. As cheesy as that sounds.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “I, uh...”  
A pause as he tries to make up his mind.  
“I think I’d like that. Try and give it a shot.” He shrugs, trying to act nonchalant.   
(I can tell his nervous, though. The bright red blush on his face gives him away.)

“Yeah?” I grin, filled with a bubbly sort of confidence. I take a few steps closer until we’re nearly toe-to-toe. 

“Y’know, since you don’t remember last night...” I move a hand to the side of his neck, feeling his racing pulse. “Maybe I could catch you up to speed?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to let you guys know that I’ll be taking a little break from this story (NOT ABANDONING!!) I’ve just gotten into a little bit of a rut with these two, and want to work on other things so that my writing doesn’t suffer. I’ll be gone for a month at most, and I just want to make sure I’m doing my best. Hope you guys like this chapter nonetheless :)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy fuck I’m back!! Thank you for the nice comments!!

“I thought you said this was only going to be a detour.”  
Droz sits in the navigation seat, his arms crossed over his chest. (He’s not _truly_ upset, just annoyed. He really needs to learn how to say no.)

“It _is_ a detour!” Davis grins at the other pilot. “Just a really long one that’s not even close to our original path!”

“That’s quite literally the opposite of a detour. Are you sure we’re going in the right direction? I don’t think I’ve seen a planet in ages.”

“The nav system says we’re still in track,” Davis answers with all the confidence of someone who trusts in sheer luck. “And we _are_ in one of the outermost sectors. ‘M not surprised we haven’t seen much.”

That doesn’t do much to soothe Droz’s nerves, but he figures the other pilot knows what he’s doing. (He hopes the other pilot knows what he’s doing.)

“Gates is going to think we died. Or that we ditched her.” He eventually says.

“Eh, we’ll pick up a fruit basket on our way back, or something. She’ll forget all about it! What’s that beer brand she likes?”

“She’s not going to be happy if we show up two weeks late with a fruit basket and alcohol,” Droz huffs. Sometimes he feels like his boyfriend was raised on a different planet. (Although, it’s technically the truth. Davis hails from a mid-rim colony, while Droz was raised in an inner-rim city. The point still stands, though.) 

“Do you have a better idea?” Davis challenges, glancing over from his spot in the pilot’s seat. “I happen to know Gates, and I’m absolutely certain that she’ll—“

“We could always just... forget about the SOS signal,” The Pilot mutters, looking away in order to stare out the window. “Pretend we never saw it. Or just forward it to the Militia. It’d save us a lot of trouble.”

“Nuh-uh. Out of the question. Not even a possibility,” Droz rolls his eyes at the other pilot’s refusal. He should have known that Davis wouldn’t give up so easily.  
“We have to check, at least. I mean, what if they _really_ need _our_ help? Our radio system’s closed— they’d have to know our signal to contact us.”

A pause, followed by an overdramatic sigh. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“Love you too!”

———————————————

The most apparent change is that Dominic actually seems to enjoy my company, now. The verbal jabs and mocking hasn’t stopped, per say, but there’s less venom behind them. They’re more of a greeting than anything else. Something that we’ve both gotten used to, and don’t have the heart to change.

It feels familiar, in a strange sort of way. I’ve been around him long enough for his venom to not do any damage. He’s certainly not defanged—I’ve just developed a resistance of sorts. 

In my mind, I see it as the best possible outcome. (Well, second only to him giving up his cruel pretenses. But that’s a little much to ask of him right now. Maybe we’ll work in it later.)  
He no longer lashes out, and I don’t have to pull back in order to nurse my wounds. (A win-win? Possibly. I’m more keen to call it a silent agreement.)

Either way, it works out for the both of us. The ceasefire has moved into a fully fledged treaty. 

Dominic doesn’t exactly become _affectionate_ in the traditional sense of the word. In fact, from an outside view, it probably looks like he still hates me. He’ll walk up to me, say something extraordinarily cruel (by a normal person’s standards, at least) and then run off to wherever it is he hides. 

I think his idea of affection is more... existing in the same space as me. Sharing his thoughts (but not his feelings. Very rarely does he talk about his feelings.) and asking me about mine.  
I think I like it.  
God, that’s kind of a strange thing to say.

I think I like my boyfriend(??)’s way of showing me that _yes, he does actually care._ Annie would never let me hear the end of it.  
‘You’re so touch-starved that just being acknowledged is enough to give you butterflies? Wooow, Jack, that’s kind of sad...’ Is what she would say. At least, that’s what I _think_ she would say. It’s been a while since I’ve talked to her.

Okay—that’s the first thing I’ll do when I make it back to civilization. I’m going to call her and my parents and tell them (mostly) everything. I’ll leave out the more... incriminating parts. The last thing I want is my family encroaching on my (tentative) love life. 

Oh. And speaking of love life—

“Think they’ll give me a titan?” Dominic and I stand in front of a table in the police station, our flight gear laid out in front of us. (Officer Jonas had seen it, and her only comment was, “So this is your secret project?” I had just gone along with it—it worked out for us, in the end.)

“Don’t know,” I hum, turning my helmet over in my hands. “They’ll be wary of you, at first. I’ll probably have to talk some things out with Sarah Briggs. Smooth some ruffled feathers, there. But who knows,” I shrug. “They might appreciate having a new pilot.”

He grunts in agreement, before reaching into a pocket and pulling out—

“BT!” I nearly shout, dropping whatever miscellaneous supply I was holding in order to reach over. “Oh my god, how did I forget?!”

“Probably for the better,” He says, staring down at the glowing data ore before handing it over. “You’re just and IMC shuttle pilot. No reason for you to be cuddling with a Vanguard datacore.”

He watches with sharp eyes as I turn it over in my hands, making sure everything’s in place. (Or that everything _looks_ like it’s in place. I’m not exactly a mechanic.)

“You would not believe how much a datacore like that sells for on the market. Not that I’m suggesting we sell your friend,” He only adds the second part after I clutch BT to my chest protectively. “Just commenting.”

“Why do you know how much they sell for?” I ask warily. 

“I wasn’t looking to buy one, if that’s what you’re asking. I just enjoyed looking around. Checking out the merchandise. I never actually bought anything other than parts for my titan.”

“You must’ve seen some interesting stuff, huh? I’ve heard there are a lot of... _specific_ vendors.”

“God, don’t even get me started,” He groans. “You could buy _human organs. Fresh human organs.”_

“Ew,” I laugh, my lip curling up in disgust. “Let’s change the subject before I barf.”

Dominic laughs brightly, the corners of his eyes creasing. “Sure, sure. Does your titan’s datacore look good? I’m not familiar with the technology— Northstars don’t exactly have removable datacores. Well, they do, but it’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

“I mean, I think?” I hold up BT. “I never actually got to the mechanical aspect of my training. The light’s still on, so _something_ must still be working in there. But I thought all titans have safety features for the AI cores? Isn’t it best to protect the link?”

He scrunches his nose, staring ahead and scratching at his flight suit absentmindedly. “You would think,” He huffs. “But, uh... HY has a removable core, but it was a whole mess just to get it out. Not nearly as convenient as what your Vanguards have. You have to keep in mind that most Northstars are built from stock. The IMC saw them as tools— not partners.”

“Do... you?” I ask hesitantly.

He scoffs, and stares at me like I’m stupid.  
“No, if course not. Trying to beat an AI into submission only gets you so far. Having a partner is much more useful. I think that’s why my Northstars always lasted long past their projected lifespan. I didn’t treat them like replaceable toys.”

“So there _is_ a heart under all that armor!” I chuckle, bumping his arm with my free hand. “And here I thought you were just a mean old mercenary.”

“I’ll kick your fucking ass,” He grumbles. “I’m not old.”

“I don’t know...” I hum, leaning up against the table. “A young, strapping 35-year-old being preyed on by a... uh... what’s the male version of a cougar?”

“Don’t call me a fucking cougar!” He growls, reaching over to claw at me. (Like a rabid cougar.) “I fucking hate you, y’know? Can’t get shit done.”

I roll my eyes, returning my attention to the datacore in my hands. “Hear that, BT? He hates me! It’s a harsh world we live in. No comfort anywhere...”

“Oh god, save me the theatrics,” Dominic drawls, pulling a (impressively large) but of shrapnel out of the back of his helmet. “In this world, it’s kill or be killed. Or I guess in our case it’s ‘kill or keep alive out of a strange sense of pity.’”

“I don’t know if pity’s the word for it. Don’t think I’d have made it this far without your help. I’m not exactly an outdoorsman,” I tilt my head, rubbing my finger across the datacore absentmindedly. “Or maybe I was just excited at the prospect of learning from a veteran pilot,” I pause, then shrug. “I dunno. Why’d you put up with me?”

His lip curls into a smile, and it looks awfully charming on him. “Well, at first I put up with you because I was down an arm and heavily concussed,” He snickers, scratching at his helmet. “But, uh... I guess you grew on me after a while. I stopped wanting to strangle you every time we talked.”

“That’s some high praise, huh?”

“Coming from me, I’d say it is,” He replies, a light blush coming to his face. “It’s hard to find people you can stand— especially now. Being a pilot gets to your head, son. Leads to nothing but inflated egos and suicide missions.”  
He pauses for a moment, his lips twitching slightly, then sighs. “God, I could use a cigarette.”

“I didn’t take you for a smoker,” I comment mildly. “Maybe now’s a good time to quit. Seeing as you don’t exactly have a supply.”

“You make me sound like I’m a fucking crackhead,” He scoffs, glancing over at me. “But I figure I won’t be around long enough for it to kill me. Hmph. But then again, I never thought I’d live to se 40.”

“Are you..?”

“Huh? Oh, I’m not about to off myself, if that’s what you’re thinking. ‘S just that piloting Titans isn’t exactly a risk-free job. Figured something would eventually shoot me out of the sky. Heh. Guess that something was you.”

“You’re not, like... down and out,” I shrug. “More like you’ve just been knocked down a few pegs. It’s probably what’s made you so bearable.”

“Wow. And you say I’m the asshole.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’m probably going to wrap this story up soon. But not to fear, 10 other people who read my stories! I have a possible third story in the planning process. (The only hint I’ll give you is that it’s a modern au!)
> 
> Also y’all are sleeping on the TRUE power couple... Davis and Droz. Double d baby lmaooo
> 
> Anyways thanks for reading!


	18. Chapter 18

“You know—“ Dominic starts, in a tone that tells me he’s been thinking too much. “From the looks of things, we might be stuck here forever.”

We’re laying side-by-side, and I glance over at him in order to make a face. “Didn’t take you for a pessimist.” I pause. “Well, actually, that’s perfectly in character for you. But tell me, Dominic, why you’ve suddenly lost hope?”

“Well, Cooper, your little rescue party is still MIA, without so much as a response call to let us know they actually _got_ your SOS. I’m just trying to be realistic.”

“You’re forgetting that we’re supposed to be undercover,” I remind him, before scrunching my nose at the ridiculousness of the statement. Two pilots— deep in enemy territory... pretending to be IMC shuttle fliers. “Have some faith, will you?”

“I’m trying,” He sighs. His hand brushes mine. “But... ugh. It’s a possibility, y’know? And one we have to account for. I dislike the idea as much as you do, but...”

“You’re thinking too hard. Doesn’t suit you.”

“Shut up,” He says instinctively. (It’s more natural than any sort of outright affection. Although, I think there’s an underlying softness in his words.)  
“I’m just worried we’ll have to spend the rest of our pathetic lives on this stupid little dirtball planet.”

“And _I’m_ saying—“ I roll over and prop myself up on my elbow. “That you’ll keep looking for problems.”

“One of us has to.”

“We’re not a sniper team,” I scoff. “You don’t need to be constantly vigilant. It’s bad for your health.”

Dominic stares at me for a moment, before snickering quietly. (The scarred side of his mouth quirks upward, and his eyes squint.)   
“Thought you Riflemen had a better sense of self-preservation. Paranoia’s what’s kept me alive this long, kid.”

“Don’t call me kid, dude,” I huff, and reach over in order to sweep a few strands of hair away from his face. “It’s weird. You sound like an old man.”  
He grins crookedly at me, and I roll my eyes in response. 

“You like it?”

“I really don’t.”

He reaches up in order to run his eyes— he’s usually asleep by now. “Fine, whatever. Have you ever used a sniper rifle?” 

Grateful for the change of subject, I nod. “A couple of times. A double-take, I think it’s called. I’m not formally trained, though. In a one-on-one fight, you’d probably beat me.”

“Mm. Yeah, probably.” He smiles. “I could teach you, sometime. If you want me to, I mean.”

“I think I’d like that. You think you’d be a good teacher?”

“Um— er, well...”

“That’s not very reassuring, Dominic.”

“Shut up, I’m thinking,” He huffs. “I was, like, a tutor, once. Helped this pilot wannabe.”   
A pause.  
“They’re, uh... dead now.”

“Oh... I’m sorry to hear that...”

“It was a long time ago,” He shrugs and sniffs. “No point in being sad about it now.”  
Something in his voice— a small tremor that he’s doing his best to hide— tells me that the wound isn’t as old as he wants me to believe. Some part of him is still sore at the memory. 

“If you want to talk about it...” I start hesitantly. 

“Mm. No, not really. Not right now, at least. It’d ruin the mood.”

 _”The mood?”_ I parrot, watching as he nods. “We’re lying in a dingy old hospital bed on an enemy-controlled logging planet. Not exactly a romantic scene.”

“I thought I was supposed to be the pessimist.”

“You’re just an asshole. There’s a difference.”

“Mm. If you say so, Cooper,” He gives a half-hearted shrug. “You still like me, though.”

“Against my better judgement.” I sigh.   
“Maybe I should’ve left you at the crash site. Prevented this whole... one-an-a-half-men routine we’ve got going.”

“Goddamn... you’re starting to sound like me.”

“And that’s a bad thing? Er—well, knowing you, it probably is.”

“Haha, very funny,” He says, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. “I’m going to break another rib laughing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy fuck!! Here’s a tiny little fluff chapter so that you guys know that I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN ABOUT THIS FIC!!   
> Super sorry for not updating sooner... hope this helps make up for it lol


End file.
